


Blue Moon

by fangirl_squee



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Gen, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:49:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of miscommunications and coincidences leads people to the conclusion that Grantaire is a werewolf. That conclusion in incorrect. (But he does live with one)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [100shots100hits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/100shots100hits/gifts).



> AU where non-humans (ie werewolves) must be registered under the law.
> 
> Werewolves in this universe use Teen Wolf werewolf transformation rules (you look like this, being in a pack makes you stronger, your senses are heightened when you’re in human form, you can transform outside a full moon if stressed/threatened/not experienced enough, etc – a quick and dirty guide to werewolf powers within the Teen Wolf universe can be found here http://teenwolf.wikia.com/wiki/Werewolf). 
> 
>  
> 
> Dedicated to Lindsey, my very own wonderful Grantaire, without who’s enthusiastic and constant support I would never have gotten past the first paragraph of this fic.

They’ve been living together for about a month when Grantaire walks out of the shower, towel low enough on his hips that Marius can see the bite mark across his side. It looks old, a couple of years at least. Grantaire goes pale when he sees Marius.

 

“It’s not what you think,” he says, quickly, hand going to cover the mark.

 

Marius pulls at the collar of his loose pyjama top, low enough so that Grantaire can see the mark there. It has stretched over time, but the teeth marks are still unmistakable. Grantaire stares.

 

“It’s okay,” says Marius.

 

Grantaire looks wary, nervous energy coming off him in waves. “No, it’s not. I’m,” Grantaire pauses, looking away, “I’m not a werewolf.”

 

“But –“

 

“Look, okay, I got bitten, and I got really sick, like, I was in hospital for about a month. I didn’t turn and all my tests came back as normal, so they had to release me.”

 

“That’s not possible.” Marius has never heard of a bite that didn’t turn or kill. But then again, he’s never been as up-to-date on werewolf culture as he probably should be.

 

Grantaire huffs a laugh. “Well, if it hadn’t happened to me, I’d agree with you, but … Uh, do you mind if I go and put some actual clothes on for this conversation? I feel like this is serious enough to warrant some underwear, at least.”

 

Marius smiles, and he hopes it comes across as less shakey than he feels. “I’ll be downstairs.”

 

They both end up skipping class that day, too unsettled to leave the house. Marius is pretty good with controlling his shifts, but he’d rather not risk it, and Grantaire seems unwilling to leave him alone. He hasn’t called the police or anything though, so really this is going a lot better than Marius thought it would.

 

Marius tells him, sitting across from Grantaire on their crappy couch, how when he was in school there’d been a pack that would go running at night. The registration laws hadn’t been as strict for minors then, so they’d been allowed to run in the woods during the full moon, as long as they kept to certain areas. He’d fallen asleep outside during the day. When he’d woken up it was dark and he was surrounded. He’d managed to get up a tree, high enough that it wasn’t worth their trouble to get him down, but it was too late. One of them had already bitten him.

 

He was sixteen years old.

 

(Grantaire can’t believe he doesn’t hold a grudge.

 

“It was before they instituted mandatory training and stuff,” says Marius, avoiding Grantaire’s eyes, looking into his mug, “it wasn’t their fault.”

 

Grantaire thinks he might start holding a grudge on Marius’ behalf.)

 

“So, immunity” says Marius, curious, “how does that work? Are you immune to, like, everything? Can you still get the flu?”

 

“I don’t know even know how it works on werewolves,” says Grantaire, “but I still get hangovers, so I’m guessing it’s a werewolves-only kind of deal.”

 

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Didn’t the doctors, like, do tests?”

 

It’s Grantaire’s turn to look away now, focussing on one spot on the wall by the fireplace. “Just the regular blood tests they run on people who come in with suspicious animal bites. And they all came back one hundred percent human. I, uh, told them I got bitten by an actual wolf.”

 

“What happened?” says Marius, gently. Most bite stories aren’t good ones, and despite Grantaire’s immunity Marius can’t imagine his is any different. “if you don’t mind, I mean, you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

 

There’s a long pause, and Grantaire’s eyes don’t move from the spot on the wall. “It was after I left high school. I was camping somewhere I shouldn’t have been, and there was this Omega. She’d been on her own too long, I think. She just wanted a pack. I couldn’t,” Grantaire swallows, and Marius can hear his heart pounding, “I couldn’t turn her in. They would have killed her, or put her in jail for the rest of her life.”

 

(One day he tells Marius the full story, how he’d run and run and run, but she’d been faster. How she’d cried after she’d bitten him, begged him not to go to the police, eye wild and frightened. How she’d dragged him to the steps of the emergency room herself.

 

How the doctors had listened, blank-faced, to his story about an animal attack. How the police had hovered close to his room, ready to bring him in for registration, until his tests results came back with the miracle result of human.

 

How he’d had dreams for months after that, where he saw through a wolf’s eyes. They’d stopped suddenly, replaced by more ordinary nightmares. Grantaire tries not to think too much about what that means for the omega woman.)

 

Over the course of the day, they slide together until they’re slouched almost on top of one another, warm and comfortable, and talk about anything else they can think of.

 

The sun is setting by the time Marius has gathered the courage to ask, “Did you want me to find somewhere else? Before the full moon?”

 

Grantaire raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you had anywhere else to go.”

 

“I can, I mean,” Marius waves a hand around, “I sure I can find somewhere else. I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

 

Grantaire looks at him for a long moment, and then shakes his head a little. “I don’t mind a little trouble.”

 

Grantaire buys a length of chain before the full moon, and sits with him in the basement while Marius rides out the shift. The first one in a strange place is always hard, senses going haywire over every little thing.

 

When Marius wakes up, his head is resting in Grantaire’s lap. It feels nice to have someone there, and Marius wonders if this is what people mean by _pack_. He’s never been part of a pack before, too afraid to tell anyone else. It makes a warm-safe feeling gather in his chest, and it feels good to have something to anchor him beside his fear of being discovered.

 

Still, Marius is a little tired from the shift, so he stays home the next day. Grantaire leaves him a stack of history books, and once Marius starts leafing through them he realises that Grantaire has marked all the pages with mentions of werewolves. He’s obviously gone through them some time ago, and a few of the highlighted paragraphs and Grantaire’s scribbled handwriting next to them in a variety of different inks.

 

There’s a section on medieval times, famous knights and lords who were supposedly bitten without tuning. _Probably false information to make themselves famous,_ Grantaire has scribbled, _I doubt that half of these people had even met a werewolf_.

 

In another book, there’s a story of a nurse in World War One who was bitten by a patient, and didn’t turn. Next to it, Grantaire has written _possibly true, although still not helpful as to why_ _she didn’t turn_.

 

Marius feels slightly guilty reading Grantaire’s notes, but Marius hasn’t read very much about werewolf history and Grantaire’s extra notes help him make sense of some things. Borrowing or buying books on topics like that gets you put onto watch lists (or, at the very least, makes people keep a close eye on you). When Grantaire gets home, Marius drops the book he’s reading guiltily.

 

“It’s okay,” says Grantaire. He hesitates a little before adding, “If you’re interested in that sort of thing, I’ve got some others you should read first but I, uh, keep them upstairs. They’re not exactly legal.”

 

“Neither am I,” says Marius.

 

Grantaire huffs a laugh. “Come on then.”

 

Marius follows Grantaire upstairs, into Grantaire’s bedroom. Grantaire pushes a few things out from under the bed before wriggling underneath it.

 

“What are you doing?” asks Marius.

 

“There’s a loose floorboard next to the wall, I keep them in there,” says Grantaire, his voice a little muffled.

 

The box scrapes a little along the floor as Grantaire drags it out with him. It’s made of dark, glossy wood, with symbols carved roughly into the sides, only half of which Marius recognises. Marius moves to help Grantaire open it, but Grantaire catches his hands before he can do so.

 

“It’s coated in wolfsbane,” says Grantaire. He pulls his sleeves over his hands as he flicks the claps open, and passes a few books to Marius. “Here, read these first. They’re kind of biased, but they have the most actual information in them, instead of just fearmongering or making stuff up.”

 

“Where did you even find some of these?” asks Marius. One of the older books, _Signs of Lycanthropy_ , has been on banned books lists everywhere for so long he’s surprised there were even copies left in the world.

 

“Oh, here and there,” says Grantaire, waving a hand, “I met a few highly questionable sources during my travels.”

 

Marius probably learns more about werewolf legends that night with Grantaire than he has in over ten years of schooling. Grantaire might not be a werewolf, but he’s talked to a lot – ones he went to school with, ones he met travelling, both registered and unregistered. He’s also known a few bounty hunters specialising in werewolves.

Marius glances at the rest of the boxes contents. There are a few bottles of coloured liquids, parts of a rifle, and some dried wolfsbane in a jar. “Is that where you got the rest of this stuff?”

 

“Yeah. If a group of hunters work together for a while, or a pack is older enough, they get their own sources,” says Grantaire, flicking through an old, leather-bound journal, “I mean, not everything they think is correct, and getting them to share it is another thing entirely, but most of the time you learn something new, so it’s worth it. I wouldn’t recommend it though, _especially_ to you.”

 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” says Marius.

 

“Well, the thing about werewolf bounty hunters is that they’re a lot like werewolves,” says Grantaire, smiling a little, “at first glance they look just like ordinary humans.”

 

(Grantaire knows ten different ways to incapacitate a werewolf. He knows exactly how the werewolf gene affects the blood, and he could tell you if someone was more likely to die or turn if they were bitten just by looking at their family medical history. He could also tell you how to disguise your tracks from hunters, how to use their most common tactics and weaponry against them.

 

Grantaire has paid for his knowledge in scar tissue and blood, and all of it has been his own.

 

He still doesn’t know what makes him immune.)

 

They go out to a bar a few days later. There’s a report on the news about a werewolf attacking people and then robbing them (but not turning them, which is even more unsettling to Marius, someone using their powers like that).

 

“Fuckin’ animals,” slurs a guy standing next to them as they wait to catch the bartender’s attention for their next round. He’s a little older than they are, and he’s been talking to the tv behind the bar for the past hour. “They shou’d round ‘em up an’ put them inna pound, if you as’ me.”

 

“Yeah well, no one asked you,” says Grantaire, a bit too loudly, “so maybe you should shut the hell up.”

 

“Whatta’d you jus’ say t’ me?” The guys stands up, swaying.

 

“You heard me,” says Grantaire.

 

Months later, when Marius tells other people about the ensuing bar fight, they don’t take it the way he thinks they will. He means it as a story of how Grantaire stood up to someone when he didn’t have to (and he’s never had someone stand up for him like that before, not even before his bite. _Pack_ , he thinks). Most people seem to take it as Grantaire being touchy about werewolves, about how he has less restraint than he should.

 

Whether it’s the late night running through backyards to avoid the police, or drinking, or the bar fight, or a combination of all three, Grantaire does get sick a few days after, falling asleep on the couch after class one day as pale, sweaty proof that his immunity does indeed only work on werewolf bites. When Marius puts a hand to Grantaire’s head to feel his temperature, his palm tingles and he jerks his hand away.

 

“Wait,” says Grantaire, “do that again.”

 

Gently, Marius puts his hand back on Grantaire’s forehead. The tingly feeling isn’t _bad_ ; it’s more like a light version of pins and needles spreading up his arm.

 

Grantaire sighs, eye fluttering closed. “I don’t care how you’re doing that, keep doing it.”

 

“How I’m doing what?”

 

“My headache, it’s gone,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius takes his hand off Grantaire’s forehead and looks at it, wriggling his fingers a little. It feels normal. “I – I don’t know what I did.”

 

Grantaire looks at him. His eyes still look a little glassy, but the lines on his forehead have smoothed out. “Marius,” he says, “I think your werewolf powers just took away my pain.”

 

It’s not an unheard of ability, certainly, but Marius has never done it before. Nothing good has ever come out of his powers.

 

“It, uh, it was nothing,” says Marius.

 

“Well, thanks,” says Grantaire, eyes falling closed, “it really helped.”

 

Marius sits on the floor next to the couch, periodically reaching up to put a hand on Grantaire’s forehead, feeling the tingle in his arm as he helps Grantaire to sleep.

 

_Pack_ , he thinks.

 

He’s just starting to think that maybe this could work, he can study and have a job and live a quiet (well, quiet- _ish_ , bar fights permitting) life with Grantaire, when he sees Cosette. She’s brilliant and breath-taking, and she smiles brightly at him even though he can’t seem to speak properly. She’s handing out flyers for werewolf rights, and he thinks _maybe I could have this too_.

 

However, in retrospect, bringing Grantaire to a meeting on werewolf rights wasn’t the greatest idea. It’s not that Grantaire doesn’t believe that they shouldn’t have the right to live as free as humans; it’s just that he’s perhaps not as optimistic as Marius about the possibility of that happening. So when Grantaire makes loud disparaging comments during Enjolras’ speech, Marius thinks that maybe he should have seen this coming.

 

He goes back the next time with Marius though, and the next, and the next, and Marius realises that it’s as much to support Marius as it is to stare at Enjolras. When he asks Grantaire about it, Grantaire _blushes_. Not much, just a light pink, but Grantaire is so rarely embarrassed about anything than Marius would notice even if he couldn’t hear the change in Grantaire’s heartbeat.

 

“I guess we both have the same type,” he says, grinning, “blonde revolutionaries.”

 

Grantaire grins back.

 

They’ve been attending meeting for a few weeks when Combeferre approaches Grantaire. Grantaire is still in the mood to argue, scowl still in place from arguing with Enjolras. Combeferre, probably due to a lifetime of friendship with Enjolras, is unfazed.

 

“I’m just curious I suppose,” he says, “as to why someone who has had the bite would be so against helping their own kind.”

 

Although he’s speaking quietly enough, Marius can see Les Amis werewolf members, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Feuilly, Bossuet, Combeferre, and Eponine, tilt their heads slightly towards the conversation. Marius turns away a little more, nodding as Jehan explains something about poster slogans.

 

He can hear Grantaire’s heartbeat pick up pace a little, although his tone is carefully neutral. “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“I think that you do. I know that you are aware of the fact that a few other Les Amis members are werewolves, myself included. I’m sure they would be happy to have you as part of their pack, if you were so inclined.”

 

“I am not,” says Grantaire, stressing every word, “a werewolf.”

 

They leave quickly, and when Grantaire gets in the car he begins to laugh. Marius gives him a strange look as they drive off.

 

“No,” says Grantaire, once he’s managed to calm down a little, “no, it’s really funny. They think _I’m_ the werewolf. They think it’s _me_ , but they’re just one room off. So close, yet so far.” His laugh sounds a little hysterical.

 

(Grantaire has been arrested before, more than once, on suspicion of being an unregistered werewolf. All the signs people are told to look for are there: He spent two years moving around a lot, being paid in cash, working different jobs. His behaviour tends to be erratic – staying up late, even into the mornings to work on paintings, or out at bars. He lives in an older house with thick walls. Alcohol is commonly used as an anchor for unregistered werewolves. He’s got ‘animal attack’ on his medical records.

 

Marius has never been arrested for anything.)

 

Eventually, they figure it out why people, and Les Amis in particular, seem to be so convinced. It’s Marius’ scent, the kind of scent that other werewolves pick up. They walk together to class, they sit next to each other at Les Amis meetings, they live together, they accidentally wear each other’s hoodies or jackets – it probably wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny for more than a day or so, but they’re rarely apart for that long. The scent combined with Grantaire’s behaviour and Marius’ own personality naturally leads people to a very logical, and very incorrect, conclusion.

 

Combeferre doesn’t bring it up again, but it’s obvious that the other Les Amis members share his belief. Grantaire does nothing to alleviate their suspicions, and he mostly seems amused by their assumption.

 

“It’s not like they’re the first people to think that about me. Besides,” he says, waving off Marius’ concerns, “it means less chance of you getting arrested. I mean, they can arrest me all they want, but I’m always going to test as fully human. This way’s safer.”

 

Although Les Amis are registered as a social club, they function as a pack, one of the few that are known more publically. There are a few old werewolf families that usually make an appearance on the news whenever a new werewolf registration law comes up for debate. Still, Les Amis is the first pack he ever meets.

 

The second is Montparnasse’s pack. They’re out for the night after a long day of on-campus campaigning, when someone tall dressed in leather bumps into Bahorel as they enter the bar.

 

“Watch it,” says Bahorel.

 

The guy turns, and his friends quickly flank either side of him. “Lookin’ alright tonight Eponine, why don’t you leave these dogs and come with us?”

 

Eponine ignores him, turning away to the doors.

 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” says the guy. His tone is light but Marius can smell his rage underneath. “You know we’d have fun.”

 

“You’re idea of fun is a lot different from mine, Montparnasse,” says Eponine.

 

“So now you’ve got a fancy doctor on the line, you’re too good for me, is that it?” Montparnasse’s tone is dangerous now. “You think you can just forget all about me?”

 

Eponine’s tone is cool and steady. “Why would I bother to remember someone like _you_?”

 

Thankfully the bouncers are good friends of Bahorel and Grantaire, so when they break up the fight they’re on Les Amis side. The rest of the night is trouble free, but it makes Marius uneasy. The smell of leather seems to follow them home, but he doesn’t see Montparnasse again.

 

Despite that, things go well for Les Amis, and for Marius. He hands out flyers with Cosette, and they share stories about childhood hobbies, likes and dislikes, and he can’t stop smiling. He feels as though he’s truly making a difference, that maybe with enough people behind it, the laws surrounding registration can be lifted, or at least relaxed.

 

Grantaire manages to divert Professor Valjean long enough for Marius to ask Cosette out on a coffee date, and it’s the happiest three and half hours he thinks he’s ever spent.

 

The next morning, he turns on the radio to hear the news: the bill proposing changes to the werewolf registration act has not passed.

 

He slides down the kitchen cupboards to the floor, holding the radio in his hands as a discussion panel reviews the decision. Grantaire finds him like that, fifteen minutes later.

 

“Marius? Don’t you have class?”

 

“It didn’t pass,” says Marius, his voice scratchy, “the bill, it didn’t pass. Unregistered werewolves will be caught and brought to justice to die in prison. Registered werewolves and humans can’t marry.” He voice is a whisper as he says, “nothing we did changed anything at all. I really thought,” he swallows and goes on, “I really thought that we, that _I_ was helping.”

 

Grantaire sits next to him, and puts one arm around him gently, as though he might break. He does break, just a little, tears hot and wet on Grantaire’s t-shirt.

 

“These things take time to happen,” says Grantaire into his hair, “you’ll be okay.”

 

He cancels plans with Cosette, although Grantaire tries to talk him out of it.

 

“I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t care that you’re a werewolf,” says Grantaire, attempting to steal the phone from him.

 

Marius has werewolf reflexes on his side though, and he keeps it out of Grantaire’s reach. “I can’t. You know what happens to humans caught dating unregistered werewolves. I can’t put her in that kind of danger just because I lo-, I mean, just because I have feelings for her.”

 

They’ve both seen it often enough, news reports and stories from friends-of-friends. Humans who have attempted secret marriages to werewolves, even to registered werewolves, often suffer as much as the werewolves themselves do.

 

(Grantaire doesn’t even suggest Marius get registered. They both know Marius has left it too long now, he’d be arrested immediately. Grantaire has no desire to see Marius become a statistic of injustice, to be used in Enjolras’ speeches and then forgotten.)

 

Enjolras scowls at Grantaire when they enter for the next meeting. “I suppose you’ve come to say I told you so?”

 

Grantaire doesn’t take the bait though, running a hand through his hair, voice soft as he says, “I didn’t want to be right. I would have given anything to not have been right.”

 

Enjolras opens his mouth, then shuts it again. The two of them stare at each other for a moment. Marius almost thinks he’ll have to intervene, but then Grantaire is turning, walking away to the back of the room.

 

Cosette looks confused when Marius sits between Grantaire and the wall during the meeting, and sad that he leaves without talking to her.

 

“You can’t avoid her forever,” says Grantaire, once they’re in the car and a block away (as safe as they can be from werewolf eavesdroppers).

 

“I know,” says Marius, and he _does_ know. But he’s afraid that if he sits next to her once, he’ll never want to move from her side.

 

“It’s for the best,” he says, “she’s safer this way.”

 

Grantaire says nothing. The next morning there’s a small sketch of Cosette on the kitchen table. She’s smiling a little, looking off to the side, and Marius’ heart _aches_ and he can feel his wolf howl for her. He folds it up and keeps it in his wallet. It’s as close as he can be to her, without putting her in danger.

 

(Years from now, Cosette will find this sketch, worn and wrinkled and folded. She’ll turn to Marius, and he’ll blush and stammer his way through an explanation and she’ll kiss him and laugh, because he loves her, he’s always loved her.)

 

Avoiding Cosette turns out to be a little easier than expected thanks to the semester break. Grantaire drags Marius on a road trip, driving to every tourist trap he can think of. They drive for hours at a time, and sleep in crappy roadside motels or in the car. Marius feels like he brings up Cosette number a hundred times a day, but he can’t make himself call her. Being away from her aches just as sharply as being around her does.

 

Grantaire keeps tagging Enjolras in ridiculous photos, and Enjolras calls him every time he does that. Their conversations are always heated, but when Grantaire hangs up the phone he has a smile on his face. It always changes into something apologetic when he looks at Marius, but Marius just shrugs.

 

They drive back the weekend before classes start back up, windows down and radio blaring. They’re the only ones on the highway at six in the morning, after driving all night. They sing along to 80s ballads, and Marius howls the high notes. Their voices are hoarse by the time they arrive back home, and his cheeks hurt from smiling. They both fall asleep on the couch, too tired and happy to go upstairs.

 

There’s a Les Amis meeting the day after they get back. Courfeyrac asks him a series of questions about Grantaire’s travelling habits. By the time he gets to the fourth question, Marius realises that he’s trying to figure out if Grantaire was visiting a pack. It’s not unusual to have a werewolf travelling from pack-to-pack, to carry information.

 

He does think about, just for a moment, telling Courfeyrac _the only werewolf in that car was me_. Instead, he avoids the topic entirely, bringing up Grantaire’s photos of tacky landmarks. Courfeyrac stops asking him after that.

 

The next person to approach him about it is Cosette. He’s sitting outside Jehan and Courfeyrac’s dorm, while the others are inside talking loudly over the movie. He shouldn’t really be outside this late; they still haven’t caught the werewolf who’s been mugging people, but he needs a break from the noise. Campus police have patrolled by twice, tasers set to full charge, bodies tense and on alert.

 

Cosette comes outside and sits next to him, and they both look up at the moon, three-quarters full.

 

“Marius, can I ask you something?”

 

Marius looks at her, and she’s looking him straight in the eyes. His wolf whines, clawing for her, and he has to tug it back. He makes himself take a steady breath in. “Sure, anything.”

 

“You stay inside with Grantaire during the full moon, don’t you?”

 

Marius hates to lie outright. But when it comes to _this_ , he tends to see the benefits of bending the truth a little. He’s found that the best method is to bury the information you want kept secret in an avalanche of truth. People rarely pick out your secrets that way; they get distracted by the parts they think are important.

 

He tells her that, yes, he does stay in with Grantaire some nights, but that he’s never kept track of when that was (mostly true, he keeps track by the pull of the moon, not Grantaire’s behaviour), that Grantaire usually reads or paints (which is actually true), that some nights Grantaire goes out without saying where (although the “to a bar” is usually implied), that Grantaire has never shown him a bite mark (technically true, since he saw it accidentally).

 

Cosette is frowning at him. “You are telling me, right now, _honestly_ , that he’s,” her eyes flick around quickly, checking that they’re alone, “that Grantaire is not a werewolf?”

 

On this point, Marius can tell the absolute truth. “He is not a werewolf.”

 

He doesn’t have to look at Cosette to sense her disappointment. She doesn’t ask Marius if _he’s_ a werewolf (he’s not sure if he’s relieved or not). She goes back inside before he can work up the courage to pull at his collar and show her the truth, the physical proof of it on his skin.

 

He can hear Bahorel from outside, trying a similar tactic on Grantaire. When Grantaire doesn’t want you to know something, he skates around what he wants to stay hidden, giving you every fact but that one. Marius is more impressed by the fact that Grantaire manages to keep his tone light in his answers. He even keeps his heartbeat steady (although he’s been practicing that, with Marius).

 

Marius waits until they’re out of hearing-range before he thanks Grantaire for his continued silence.

 

Grantaire waves him off. “It’s not my place to say, and it’s none of their business anyway.”

 

“Still,” says Marius, gaze flicking to Grantaire and then back to the road, “it would make your life easier.”

 

Grantaire sighs dramatically, putting one hand on his chest. “My dear Marius, some of us were never meant for the easy life.”

 

Marius laughs. _Pack_.

 

Courfeyrac makes off-hand comments to Marius sometimes, if he seems tired around a full moon, implying that Marius is a good friend to take care of Grantaire during his shift. It’s that, more than anything, that makes Marius want to shout _I am a werewolf, Grantaire is a human_ from the rooftops.

 

It sometimes feels as though everybody seems to be under the impression that it’s Marius coming to Grantaire’s aid all the time. He hates so much that he can never tell people that it’s _Grantaire_ taking care of him, that it’s _Grantaire_ who sits with him every shift to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself (or anyone else), that it’s _Grantaire_ who has basically guaranteed that Marius will never be found out.

 

Winter comes in with an early frost, and more reports of the rouge werewolf attacking and mugging humans. There are still no reports of bites, but reports of attacks and sightings are so frequent that they’re the topic of almost every Les Amis meeting. It feels like the whole city is on alert, waiting.

 

“It’s instances like this one,” says Enjolras, waving a newspaper around (NEW WEREWOLF ATTACK LEAVES FOUR IN HOSPITAL screams the headline), “that give werewolves bad press. It’s lone werewolves, single cases like this, that help to stop changes to registration laws passing, and it’s something that we, as a group, have to fight against.”

 

“But that’s just the problem,” says Grantaire, pen tapping against a half-finished sketch (Jehan’s braids today), “those stories sell papers, they get viewers, and most importantly, they get people afraid enough to vote the way the people in power want them to. You can try to make people more informed, raise awareness, whatever, but that system itself is never going to change. People in power use fear to _stay_ in power.”

 

“So your solution is not to try at all?”

 

Grantaire makes a face “That’s not what I meant. What I’m saying is that people in positions of power like to stay there, and that this is the easiest way to do it. This is hardly shocking or new information.”

 

There’s no space in Grantaire and Enjolras’ conversation for anyone else. It’s not as bad as their first meeting (they know each other’s limits better now, and there’s some buttons they avoid pushing with each other), but it’s still bad enough that Grantaire leaves early. He texts Marius that he’s going to a bar, he won’t be home until later.

 

Marius stays up as late as he can, worrying. The city hasn’t imposed a curfew, but they are strongly advising all residents to be home before dark until the werewolf attacks can be stopped. After an hour of trying, he manages to get Grantaire on the phone.

 

“I’m _fine_ ,” says Grantaire, voice slurring slightly, but he seems in a much better mood now, “I’m coming home now.”

 

“I’ll come get you, where are you?” Marius is already standing, hunting for his keys in pockets of the coats near the door.

 

“I said I’m fine, come on Marius,” Marius hears a burst of talking-laughing in the background, as Grantaire passes through into the quieter street, “I’ll just walk. It’s not like it’s far, just go to bed.”

 

Marius frowns, keys in hand now. “What about the attacks? You know the mayor released a statement this afternoon telling people not to walk alone at night, and -”

 

Grantaire laughs, a burst of staticy sound over the phone. “What’s the worst that could happen to me? I don’t have any money to steal, and it’s not like them biting me would actually do anything. Now stop worrying and get some sleep!”

 

Marius waits on the couch, but he falls asleep before Grantaire come home.

 

Marius wakes up to the smell of blood and bruises, and follows it to the kitchen. The early morning sunlight filtering through the window. Grantaire looks hung over and exhausted, and he flinches slightly when Marius puts his hand to Grantaire’s forehead. The familiar tingling runs down his arm.

 

“What happened?” he asks, voice quiet.

 

“Just a dumb fight.”

 

Marius frowns. Grantaire might not be particularly _proud_ of all the fights he’s ever been in, but he always has a story about it – a guy was trash talking him, or hassling the bartender, or knocked into him on the way to the bathroom.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Grantaire laughs, and there’s another rush of tingling through his arm. “Why, don’t I look okay?”

 

“You look like you got the absolute crap beat out of you,” says Marius, “what happened?”

 

“I told you, it was just a dumb bar fight okay?” he pushes off Marius’ hand and turns away. “Come on, we’ve got class.”

 

They take the back route to class, but the people they do pass stare a little at Grantaire red-purple bruises. When Grantaire meets up with him again, he’s lacking the usual splotches of paint and ink that usually accompany his studio time. Marius would be tempted to comment on it, but Grantaire seems barely in the mood to make monosyllabic conversation.

 

Grantaire has a nightmare that night, a bad one. Usually they’re light enough that Marius is willing to respect Grantaire’s wish to be left alone through them, but Marius wakes up to the smell of fear spiking through the air.

 

He opens Grantaire’s door quietly, and Grantaire is curled in the middle of the bed, sweating and shaking.

 

“Please,” he says, voice rasping, “please, please, pleasepleaseplease _please_ –“

 

Marius tries to shake him awake, and if he wasn’t a werewolf Grantaire probably would have broken his nose. As it is, he’s able to grab the fist before it reaches his face.

 

“Grantaire, it’s me!”

 

“Marius?” says Grantaire. His breathing is still heavy.

 

“You were having a nightmare,” says Marius softly, “are you okay?”

 

Grantaire clenches and unclenches his hands in the sweat-damp sheet. “I’m fine.”

 

“Okay,” says Marius. Instead of leaving, he lies down next to Grantaire, and leans his head a little against Grantaire’s shoulder.

 

Grantaire sighs, and leans into him a little. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“That’s okay,” says Marius, “you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

 

They lie there together, looking up onto the darkened ceiling. Marius falls asleep first, listening to the double-time beat of Grantaire’s heart.

 

Grantaire leaves before he wakes up.

 

Grantaire avoids him for two days after that, which worries Marius more. It’s not just the werewolf attacks; there are a thousand other bad situations that Grantaire could have fallen into. So, as a last resort, he uses the campus radio request hour. Grantaire might avoid texts and facebook notifications, but he’ll definitely have the radio on while he’s in the art studio.

 

(Grantaire has been staring at the blank page for half an hour. He hasn’t been able to paint or sketch or even doodle a dumb cartoon of anything since –

 

Well. He just hasn’t. For a few days.

 

_And this next request is from Marius to Grantaire_ , says the radio, voice chipper, _Grantaire, Marius just wants you to know that he’s here for you._

 

As the song builds to the final verse, Grantaire picks up the stick of charcoal, and works solidly until Marius’ shift at the campus bookstore is over. He grabs his coat and heads to the bookstore, walking as fast as he can without attracting attention.

 

He leaves the paper on the stand in the corner, unsigned. Two red eyes glare out from the blue-black shadows.)

 

Grantaire is waiting for him after he gets out of work, his hands and face smudged with charcoal. His heart beat is going like crazy.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ve been a dick to you, and you don’t deserve it. I need to talk to you, but not here, okay?”

 

“Sure,” says Marius, “and it’s fine, I mean, it’s not fine, I was really worried, but you don’t have apologise. I’m glad you did though.”

 

Grantaire smiles back, but it looks strained. He’s twitchy and silent the whole way home. When they get in the door, he motions for Marius to follow him upstairs, and turns on the tinny-sounding radio in his room. It’s a slightly distracting noise, the frequency tuning in and out in the background, but mostly static.

 

“It’s an old hunter trick,” he explains, “it stops werewolves from being able to eavesdrop.”

 

Grantaire sits, and then stands and paces. Marius sits on the edge of the bed and watches him for a few moments.

 

“So I’m guessing this is about the bar fight you were in,” says Marius.

 

Grantaire’s still pacing, hand movements twitchy. “It wasn’t a bar fight.”

 

“Oh,” says Marius, and he’s really trying not to think of worst case scenarios right now, “so what happened?”

 

Grantaire looks at him, opening his mouth, and then closing it again, as though he’s thought better of what he was going to say. Marius looks at him, and waits, listening to the beat of his heart. It’s calmed down a little since they got home, but it’s nowhere near the steady beat it usually runs at.

 

“What would you do,” begins Grantaire, then exhales sharply, “no, _hypothetically_ , what would you do if you found out someone was committing a crime?”

 

Marius blinks at him, because Grantaire doesn’t really like _hypotheticals_ , even if he doesn’t always share all the details of a situation outright. “I suppose it would depend on the crime. And,” he adds, as an afterthought, “on the person too, I think.”

 

Grantaire makes a face. “Well, that’s not helpful.”

 

“Maybe,” says Marius, “if you actually told me the full hypothetical I could give a better answer.”

 

Grantaire’s heartbeat speeds up a little. “Hypothetically, if you knew who the werewolf was, the one who’s been attacking people, what would you do?”

 

_Well, so much for not thinking of the worst-case scenario_ , thinks Marius. “Do you know who it is?”

 

Grantaire looks away, staring at the wall, and Marius thinks of another conversation, so long ago.

 

“It’s not one person. It’s a gang, no, a pack. Montparnasse’s pack.” It comes out as a whisper.

 

Marius stops fidgeting. He’s only met Montparnasse once, the night they’d helped Eponine get her stuff from his apartment. He remembered bruises on Eponine’s wrist, stark against her skin, as she’d put the boxes in his car. He remembered his own anger about that, and Grantaire’s too.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Well, they kicked the absolute shit out of me, so I’m pretty sure, yeah.” Grantaire’s stopped pacing now, and he leans against the wall opposite Marius. “So, what would you do?”

 

“What else can we do? We have to report him.”

 

“Ah,” Grantaire’s smile had a bitter edge, “but if we report him, then he’ll report on Eponine, and anyone else he can think of to be annoying. But it won’t be just annoying for _you_. The police would bring everyone in for questioning, and they’d do a thorough testing session. Even registered werewolves have trouble getting through the system, but you …” Grantaire trails off.

 

(If Marius is arrested and questioned and goes through testing, they will find no trace of him in the system. _Unregistered_.

 

Grantaire will do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen. Marius is too good a person to go through that.)

 

“I know. But we can’t just let him attack people,” says Marius, “we have to do _something_. We could, I don’t know, we could tell Les Amis?”

 

“No,” says Grantaire emphatically, “definitely not. Even if Les Amis was made up of entirely werewolf members, you’d still be outnumbered two against one _at least_. If you go up against Montparnasse and his pack, they’ll kill you.”

 

Of course, Marius brings it up at the next meeting anyway. It’s the meeting after Grantaire stormed out, but Les Amis are used to that now (from both Grantaire and Enjolras). Usually there’s some light teasing, well-meant and easy to brush off.

 

Courfeyrac takes one look at Grantaire’s bruised face and lets out a shout of surprise. “What the hell happened to you?”

 

The other Les Amis turn to stare at them, and Marius fidgets even though they’re not looking at him. Grantaire’s bruises have faded during the week to a yellowish-green, but they’re still very apparent on his winter-fair skin.

 

“Bar fight,” says Grantaire, crossing to lower himself gently into his usual seat at the back. “Don’t you people have some sort of preparations to attend to?”

 

Marius sits next to him, as always. “You should tell them,” he says, quietly. Apparently not quietly enough though.

 

Courfeyrac, ever the eavesdropper, twists in his seat to face them. “Tell us what?”

 

The others react pretty much how’d you would expect.

 

“We have to stop him!” says Enjolras, as passionate about this as he is about anything else.

 

He rallies them, just as he would rally them for anything else, and they begin to plan. Werewolves on point, with humans as back up only. Enjolras doesn’t look like he likes that particular part of the plan, but Combeferre and Cosette are both insistent.

 

Grantaire is furious the entire ride home.

 

“I told you not to tell them,” he says, as soon as the front door is closed.

 

“They had a right to know. And this is the only way of doing this that doesn’t lead to a mass arrest.”

 

“If you don’t get killed by Montparnasse’s pack, you could be arrested anyway.”

 

“It’s worth it, to stop him,” Marius starts to say, but Grantaire grabs his arm.

 

“No, it’s not,” Grantaire is looking him straight in the eye, “it’s not worth your life, it’s not worth any of your lives.”

 

“Grantaire,” Marius doesn’t know what to say that will stop Grantaire from looking so _hurt_ , “we’re taking precautions. I won’t even be on the front lines of this.”

 

He doesn’t know what else to do, so he pulls Grantaire into a hug. Grantaire is stiff for a moment, before he relaxes, head resting on Marius’ shoulder.

 

“I’ll be okay,” he says, willing it to be true, “we’ll all be okay.”

 

Obviously, the plan goes to shit.

 

Enjolras is distracted the whole ride there, probably because of the week-long series of arguments he had with Grantaire, culminating in a shouting match as Marius was about to leave. Grantaire declared he wasn’t going to watch them all die, and Enjolras snapped back that he didn’t want Grantaire there anyway. Grantaire had fallen silent, hurt quickly replaced a cold, blank look, and he’d gone upstairs without another word.

 

The werewolf Les Amis members go on ahead, with the humans members staying behind, trying to disguise their body heat with the car. Cosette had brought binoculars, and they share them around as Enjolras mutters the plan under his breath.

 

Montparnasse’s pack is obviously better prepared for this sort of this than they’d expected. For a few minutes Marius could feel Les Amis winning due to the sheer surprise of the attack, but Montparnasse is quick to turn the advantage. He might not have Enjolras’ gift for rallying speeches, but he doesn’t need it. Not for this.

 

Marius holds the binoculars slightly above his field of vision, wolf’s eyes flicking over the action. “I think they need our help.”

 

Their charge onto the field does bring a moment of distraction to Montparnasse’s pack. Enjolras takes out a wolf with a lead pipe (Cosette laughs, and mutters something about baton practise under her breath), and for a moment Marius really thinks that the battle is almost won.

 

It only takes a few minutes for Montparnasse’s pack to regain the advantage. Marius wolf surges forward and Marius pulls it back as he ducks underneath a werewolf’s claws.

 

Eponine screams and Marius turns sharply to see across the clearing. Eponine lies unconscious on the ground as one of Montparnasse’s pack raises a clawed hand to strike at Cosette. Marius bursts forward, pushing himself to move faster, and _faster_ (his wolf surges forward and Marius doesn’t stop him this time, distracted by _Cosette_ and _danger_ ).

 

He tackles the other wolf, crashing them both into the thick trunk of an oak. The other wolf snarls, and Marius _slams_ his head against the trunk _hard_. Marius lets go of the body, and it sinks to ground, out cold but breathing.

 

“Marius?” Cosette looks stunned.

 

Her fear hangs in the air, and he flinches, wishing for a way to hide his fangs and claws (even though it’s too late, now).

 

“I’m, I,” the fight rages around them, “I’ll explain later.” He hopes there _is_ a later.

 

Later, he’ll only remember parts of the fight. Jehan hitting a werewolf from behind as he cornered Courfeyrac. Combeferre dragging Eponine’s body to a safe distance, telling Cosette to look after her before he returns to Enjolras’ side. Bahorel and Feuilly wrestling, bodies crashing against members of Montparnasse’s pack. His own smaller fights, twisting and dodging and clawing.

 

There’s a shout, Montparnasse and Enjolras’ voices together, and it seems to freeze the field.  Both packs turn to look almost as one.

 

Montparnasse has Enjolras by the throat, holding him in the air one handed. “Any last words, human?”

 

“Stop! Let him go.” It’s Grantaire, heart beating wildly as he aims a rifle straight for Montparnasse.

 

Montparnasse snarls, tightening his hold. Enjolras’ breath rasps, his feet kicking out. “What are you going to do about it, shoot me with a silver bullet?”

 

Grantaire smirks a little. His eyes flick to Marius, then back to Montparnasse. “No,” he says, and fires.

 

Montparnasse drops, howling in pain. Marius takes advantage of the distraction to pull Enjolras up and away.

 

Grantaire cocks the weapon again. “I’m not going to shoot you with a silver bullet, I’m not an idiot. I’m going to shoot you with a wolfsbane one. And if you all don’t get out of here, right now, I’m going to do it again, and this one won’t be a warning shot.”

 

“Do you think you’re quick enough to get us all?” hisses Montparnasse. The bullet wound is bleeding rapidly, purple-tinged smoke rising into the cold air.

 

“Maybe not. But I don’t really think you want to test me, do you?” When Montparnasse doesn’t move, Grantaire adds, “And here,” He pulls a spare round out of his pocket, tossing it to one of the werewolves that are crouched next to Montparnasse, “open this, pour it on the wound, and light it up. It’ll burn out the wolfsbane.”

 

Montparnasse limps heavily, leaning on another of his pack as they leave the clearing.

 

“ _What_ –“ says Enjolras.

 

Grantaire cuts him off. “Wait until we’re somewhere safer, okay? Then you can yell at me all you want.” He rests the rifle against his shoulder, casual, and turns to Marius “You okay?”

 

Marius lets out a shakey breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, trying to ignore how the rest of the group’s eyes fall on him. “Yeah, I, uh, I’m glad you came.”

 

“Me too.” Grantaire’s smile reaches his eyes for the first time that night. “I take it that this,” he gestures to Marius’ claws, “means that you told them?”

 

“Not exactly. I kind of shifted accidentally?” Grantaire laughs. “It’s not funny!”

 

Marius smiles anyway, and Grantaire slings the arm not supporting the rifle around his shoulder as they head towards the cars. The others stand around, staring at Grantaire (and at Marius too, but he’s trying not to think about that).

 

Enjolras glares at Grantaire. “What the _hell_ was that?”

 

Grantaire switches the rifle to his other shoulder, leaning against the car. “Oh, you mean _besides_ saving your life? Which, you’re welcome, by the way.”

 

“So you’re what, a bounty hunter?” Enjolras gestures at the rifle, his movements quick and agitated. “Hanging around the pro-werewolf group, making sure they’re not up to something?”

 

Marius steps forward, not bothering to push his wolf down. “He was trying to help us Enjolras –“

 

“So you _knew_?” says Enjolras, “What, do you help him sniff out the wolves, so you know who to arrest first? I thought you believed in our case, I can’t believe –“

 

“I think,” interrupts Combeferre, and they turn towards him where’s he’s leaning against the car, supporting Eponine, “that perhaps we should discuss this later.”

 

Marius can hear sirens. Too far away for human ears, they’re got maybe fifteen minutes before they get here. The group breaks apart, and they head their separate ways. Cosette won’t look at him, and it hurts a lot more than he thought it would. He hands the keys to Grantaire, his hands have turned back to human but they’re shaking and he doesn’t trust himself behind the wheel.

 

They’re both silent on the way home, and the air in the car is thick with Grantaire’s fear. When he puts a hand on Grantaire’s shoulder, he jumps a little in his seat. The car jerks, and Grantaire rights it quickly.

 

“Sorry,” says Marius.

 

“It’s okay, I guess I’m just a little jumpy right now,” says Grantaire.

 

“No, I mean, sorry for,” Marius waves his other hand, gesturing behind them, “back there.”

 

“That wasn’t your fault either,” says Grantaire.

 

They’re silent for the rest of the ride home. Marius keeps his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder, the warmth of it comforting them both.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Marius deal with the fall out of the fight with Montparnasse’s pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I'm The Worst at updating this fic! Thank you so much to everyone who commented, left kudos, or sent messages, you guys are so lovely.
> 
> This chapter contains vague references to Teen Wolf characters (no knowledge of the show necessary for them to make sense in this fic though). Beta'd by the amazing tumblr user besanii.

Grantaire drives very carefully back to their house. Not that he’s usually a reckless driver, but now he’s being more obvious in his caution. Marius can’t blame him, the last thing they need tonight is to be pulled over by the police. Grantaire glances in the rear-vision mirror every so often, tensing and then relaxing slightly when there’s no one behind them. Marius closes his eyes for a moment, listening to the traffic around them.

 

“I don’t think we’re being followed by anyone,” says Marius.

 

“Good,” says Grantaire.

 

He keeps his driving steady as they return to the house, helping Marius out of his seat after he parks. Marius leans on him as they make their way up the path. Most of his wounds feel like they’ve already healed, leaving small aches in their wake.

 

Grantaire flips his radio onto static as soon as they get into his room, and the world seems to shrink down to that one room. It’s strange, not being able to hear things outside Grantaire’s bedroom because of the white noise. It cancels out all the distractions, and suddenly Marius feels as though he can’t _breathe_.

 

Grantaire grips him by the shoulders. “Hey. It’s okay, Marius, you’re okay, Cosette’s okay, I’m okay, everyone made it out, everyone’s fine.”

 

Marius focuses on Grantaire in front of him, and the warm-safe feeling Grantaire brings with him, pushing his wolf back down. He doesn’t realise how much his hands are shaking until he puts them over Grantaire’s steadier ones. “Grantaire, they saw me shift, they know, and I lied to them, and I lied to _Cosette_ -”

 

Grantaire squeezes his shoulders slightly. “Hey, look at me, okay? I know I mock them about this a lot, but they’re good people. They’re not going to shut you out for this. They’ll understand.”

 

Grantaire guides him to the bed and they sit together until Marius can stop his hands trembling. Grantaire’s heartbeat is a little too fast, anxiety rolling off him faintly, but Marius still feels calmer for being near him. They kick off their shoes, and end up falling asleep in their clothes. Grantaire sleeps with one arm protectively around Marius and the other curled around his rifle.

 

They wake up tangled together. Grantaire stays close as they get ready for class. Even though he’s full of nervous energy, Marius still feels more in control with Grantaire close by. The warm-safe feeling of Grantaire also helps him focus on something other than the pit in his stomach when he thinks about seeing the rest of Les Amis.

 

The only class he actually has with one of Les Amis is the poetry class he took to fill an English requirement, with Courfeyrac. They usually wait for each other outside, but today Courfeyrac comes into class late. When he does arrive, he sits on the opposite side of the room to Marius and avoids catching Marius’ eye. He doesn’t wait for Marius afterwards either, and it makes Marius feel far, _far_ worse than if Courfeyrac had yelled at him.

 

 _He’s probably just busy,_ thinks Marius, _I mean, we all have assignments and things coming up soon, he’s probably just got stuff to work on._

Later, Marius thinks he sees Combeferre in the library, but when he gets close, whoever it was has left.

 

 _It was probably just my imagination_ , he thinks, trying to ignore the smell of Combeferre in the books, _a lot of people have those glasses, it could have been anyone._

 

Usually Marius goes to the café to get lunch after class, but the thought of food makes his stomach churn. Instead, he makes his way to the art building, finding his way to Grantaire by the sound of his heartbeat.

 

Grantaire looks up from his painting as Marius enters. Grantaire has yellow paint on his nose and it makes Marius smile for a moment, before he remembers why he came to find Grantaire in the first place.

 

“Aren’t you usually holding court in the café now?” says Grantaire, eyes flicking over to the clock on the wall.

 

“I didn’t feel like eating. I think the others are avoiding me,” says Marius. It sounds a little overly-dramatic when he says it out loud, and he feels a little foolish.

 

“I’m sure they just need time. I mean, it’s a pretty big re-evaluation they’ve got to make for the both of us. For example,” Grantaire says, smiling a little as he begins painting again, “I’m pretty sure they all thought I had terrible aim.”

 

Marius smiles at that. “Well, that was very surprising.”

 

“I learnt many things, out on the road,” says Grantaire, in the tone he adopts when he’s trying to seem mysterious. It makes Marius feel lighter.

 

Marius gives his shoulder a gentle shove and pulls a stool up next to him. “Tell me about what you’re painting?”

 

As Marius listens, he thinks about how Grantaire had never avoided him, even after that first full moon, even after people thought Grantaire was a werewolf, even when Marius’ wolf made things difficult.

 

“What do you think we’d be like, if we hadn’t got the bite?” he says suddenly, interrupting Grantaire’s story.

 

Grantaire looks at him sharply, paintbrush hovering over his water jar, eyebrows raised. “Well, we could walk around shirtless more.”

 

Marius laughs. “Seriously, do you think we’d be different people?”

 

Grantaire’s silent for a moment, carefully cleaning off his paintbrush. “I don’t know. A lot of things would be different. I mean, you wouldn’t have needed to resort to living with me, so we probably wouldn’t be friends.”

 

Marius watches as Grantaire swirls his paintbrush around in the jar, blue paint staining the water. “Well, then I guess I don’t mind having the bite.”

 

“That’s kind of ridiculous,” says Grantaire, but he’s smiling.

 

Marius sits with him until he’s finished for the day, curling up in one of the more comfortable chairs to do some class readings. He falls asleep on his textbook, and when Grantaire shakes him awake it’s dusk outside. Grantaire drives home, and Marius slouches against the window, watching the sun set over the city in the side rear-vision mirror.

 

Despite Grantaire’s confident words, Marius can hear him moving around during the night, and the smell of his worry keeps Marius awake until the early hours of the morning. Neither of them sleeps well that night.

 

Grantaire is awake before him the next morning. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter when Marius comes down for breakfast, frowning at his phone.

 

“Grantaire? Are you okay?”

 

Grantaire puts his phone face down on the counter, flicking the switch on the kettle. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”

 

Marius leans next to him, bumping their shoulders together. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

 

“It’s…okay, it sounds kind of insignificant, but I…” Grantaire lets out a frustrated breath. “Enjolras hasn’t texted me. He usually sends something, even if it’s just to tell me to leave him alone because he’s studying. I guess that was when he thought I was a werewolf though. Part of his cause.”

 

There’s a bitter twist to Grantaire’s words.

 

Marius doesn’t know what to say to that, so he rests his head on Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire manages a weak smile.

 

Neither of them hears from anyone the following day, so they both skip the Les Amis meeting. Marius orders pizza, and they pretend they’re not watching the clock, making note of when the meeting starts and ends.

 

Marius hears a car pull up, and digs around in his pocket as he opens the door. “I think I have almost the exact change for – oh.”

 

Combeferre raises an eyebrow. “I’m guessing you were expecting someone else?”

 

“Yeah, we, uh, just ordered pizza,” says Marius.

 

Combeferre standing in the doorway feels very surreal. He steps forward, and Marius steps back to let him in without thinking about it. Combeferre hovers slightly in the doorway to the lounge, so Marius moves around him to sit next to Grantaire on the couch, moving his feet out of the way.

 

Grantaire blinks in surprise at Combeferre over the top of the couch. “I was wondering who Enjolras would send.”

 

Combeferre steps forward, moving a stack of books off a rickety wooden chair to sit across from them. “No one sent me, I came here of my own accord to…” Combeferre pauses, searching for the right words, “…assess the situation.”

 

Grantaire folds him arms. “You mean you came to see how much of a threat we are to your _cause_.”

 

Combeferre keeps his tone even. “No, I meant what I said. Marius’ transformation and your knowledge and use of wolfsbane were surprising, to say the least. As a friend to both of you, I think you owe me some form of explanation.”

 

A hot spike of anger jolts through Grantaire. “An explanation? Okay, how about this, you guys were a bunch of assholes about the possibility of me being a werewolf when it was none of your business, and Marius –”

 

“–Is unregistered,” says Marius, cutting him off.

 

Grantaire sits back with a sigh, his mouth a thin line of disapproval.

 

Combeferre blinks in surprise. Obviously whatever explanation he’d prepared himself for hadn’t been that. “Unregistered? How long ago were you bitten?”

 

Marius fidgets, nervous under Combeferre’s gaze. “A while. Too long ago to register now without jail time.”

 

“Why didn’t you just tell us? We do have some influence, we could find a way to help you,” says Combeferre.

 

Marius taps out a beat on the couch cushion.

 

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “At first it was because I didn’t know you well enough, and by the time I did…” he sighs. “It never seemed like the right moment. Being friends with someone like me – it’s dangerous, especially if you’re a werewolf, and I didn’t want anybody getting in trouble on my behalf.”

 

Combeferre nods, seemingly satisfied with Marius’ response. He moves his gaze to Grantaire. “And your skill with a rifle?”

 

“Saved your lives,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius elbows him. Whatever they say to Combeferre will affect how the rest of the group sees them from now on and Grantaire is being _needlessly antagonistic_.

 

Grantaire lets out a huff, affection for Marius and annoyance at Combeferre in one breath. “It’s something I picked up while travelling. I’m not any sort of hunter, bounty or otherwise.”

 

“But you did learn it from hunters,” says Combeferre, careful to keep his tone neutral.

 

“Yes,” says Grantaire.

 

“Meaning that you did travel with hunters,” says Combeferre.

 

“I did. And sometimes I travelled with werewolves, and sometimes I travelled with plain old humans, and sometimes I even travelled on my own,” says Grantaire. “Everybody has something to teach you if you ask them the right way.”

 

“And the reason you didn’t share this information before was…?” asks Combeferre.

 

“How about because it was none of your business? Or because it didn’t matter how many times I told you I wasn’t a werewolf, you didn’t believe me? Or because of how badly you, the whole group, react to even the _mention_ of hunters? Pick one,” says Grantaire. “And also, given how well Enjolras reacted, I’d say my decision to not share that particular detail of my life was the right one.”

 

“I think it was how the information was presented that was the shock,” says Combeferre. “I’m sure if you’d told him outright he would have had a better reaction.”

 

Grantaire snorts, breaking eye contact with Combeferre for the first time. “Whatever.”

 

Silence stretches out, and Combeferre lets out a slow breath. “I think you should both come to the next Les Amis meeting.”

 

“What, so you can lynch me?” says Grantaire.

 

Combeferre frowns. “We’re still your friends, we’re not going to lynch you. Just … think about it?”

 

Grantaire’s eyes stay fixed on the floor.

 

Marius nods. “I’ll think about it.”

 

Combeferre stands and they copy his movement, following him to the front door. As Combeferre opens the door, Marius reaches out to catch his arm.

 

“Wait, could you tell Cosette that I’m, I mean,” Marius stumbles over the words, because there’s _so much_ he wants to say to Cosette, “could you tell her that I’m sorry? And that I’d really like to talk to her? I mean, if she doesn’t want to talk to me, then I won’t, but I, I’m – I’d really like to talk to her.”

 

Combeferre nods, and shuts the door behind him. They listen to the fading steps down the path, and the sound of Combeferre’s car as he drives away. Grantaire slides down the wall, relief rolling off him in waves. Marius sits down next to him, leaning his head on Grantaire’s shoulder. There’s a knock at the door and they both jump. Grantaire laughs at his own response.

 

“I’ll get it,” says Grantaire, opening the door just wide enough to take the pizza.

 

Neither of them feel much like eating after Combeferre’s visit. They pick at the toppings for a while, until Grantaire sighs and puts the rest in the fridge. Marius follows Grantaire as he gets ready for bed, trying to focus on the warm-safe feeling rather than the unease he’s felt since Combeferre’s visit.

 

“Are you okay?” says Grantaire, looking at Marius in the mirror as they brush their teeth.

 

Marius sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t feel right. It’s like,” he searches for the right words, flicking toothpaste everywhere as he gestures with his toothbrush, “like how I feel before the full moon, sort of. Like my wolf is close to the surface?”

 

Grantaire hums in reply, but doesn’t try to kick Marius out when he follows Grantaire to his bedroom, just pulls back the covers so Marius can climb in after him. Marius rests his forehead against Grantaire’s arm, grounding himself as he listens to Grantaire’s steady heartbeat.

 

Marius is almost asleep when Grantaire asks, “what if you could be registered without all the legal hassle?”

 

Marius blinks sleepily up at him. There’s a line of light illuminating Grantaire’s face from the streetlamp outside, where Grantaire hasn’t shut the curtain properly. His face has the same expression he had when he was facing down Montparnasse.

 

“What d’you mean?” asks Marius, around a yawn.

 

“I mean, if there was a way to put you in the system, is that something you would want?”

 

Marius frowns. “A legal way?”

 

Grantaire makes a face. “Not technically. But it does have minimal danger to the bystanders in our lives.”

 

Marius thinks for a moment. “How would you even do something like that?”

 

“I know a pack that’s been known to do this kind of thing, down in California. They kind of owe me one, and I’m probably never going to use it for anything else, so,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius ignores the enormity of that lie, since there is probably quite a lot Grantaire could use a favour like this for. “You said _our_ lives?”

 

Grantaire blinks in mild surprise. “Well, danger to you because it’s your file in the system and danger to me, as the person changing the file.” He pauses for a moment. “That is, if you want it changed.”

 

It would mean a more honest life, albeit a more difficult one. The potential danger to Grantaire isn’t just something Marius can ignore either. “Can I think about it?”

 

“Sure,” says Grantaire, lying back down, “it’s not a one-time offer. Thank about it as long as you want.”

 

Marius lies awake for a long time, listening to Grantaire’s slow breathing and thinking about the possibility of an honest life.

 

He calls Cosette the next day. It goes straight to voicemail. Marius doesn’t leave a message.

 

Grantaire’s phone becomes an almost-permanent fixture in his hand, turning around and around in his palm absent-mindedly. Marius hears him, trying to call Enjolras. Grantaire _does_ leave voicemail messages, long ones, as he paces back and forth on their back porch.

 

“So your plan is just to clog up his inbox until he calls you back?” asks Marius.

 

Grantaire shrugs. “What else can I do?”

 

 

(This is not a rhetorical question.)

 

 

Combeferre’s visit is the only contact either of them have with Les Amis during the following week, apart for quick sights across campus. When Marius gets home on Friday afternoon, Grantaire is stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. There’s a half-finished sketch lying next to him on the floor, golden curls and a red coat. Marius sits on the floor next to it, tilting his head back so his hair brushes against Grantaire’s arm.

 

“It’s been a long week,” says Marius.

 

Grantaire hums in response, not looking away from the ceiling. There’s a discoloured patch above them where water leaks through from the bathroom, staining the white of the ceiling a black-flecked grey.

 

“So I was thinking about how that California pack owes you a favour,” says Marius.

 

That makes Grantaire look at him. “And?”

 

“And I think, if it is possible, I’d like that,” says Marius. “I’d rather not have to lie anymore about what I am – not if I don’t have to.”

 

Grantaire nods, reaching down for his phone. “Fair enough.” He scrolls through his contacts, pulling up a number.

 

“You’re going to call them _now_?” says Marius.

 

Grantaire’s thumb hovers above the call button. “Did you have a specific time in mind for getting this started?”

 

“I, well, no,” says Marius, “but –”

 

“It’ll take a while for them to get everything together,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius nods and Grantaire smiles at him, trying for reassuring, as the phone rings. It doesn’t take long for someone to pick up.

 

“Hey, hello, this is Grantaire, I need to speak to the boy who runs with wolves. Tell him it’s R … yeah, like the letter, he’ll know who it is. Or he should.” Grantaire hums tunelessly,waiting, then: “Stilinski! It’s R, listen, is this a secure line? … Yeah, I can wait … Good? Good. I know things are always crazy over there so I’ll keep this quick. You know how I helped you out with that guy a few years ago? I’m calling in the favour.”

 

A quick pause, and then Grantaire huffs a laugh, eyes flicking to Marius. “No, nothing like that, I just need you to change someone’s status in the system. I’ve got a friend who wants to get legal…no, no prior convictions, he’s never even gotten a parking ticket, he’s ridiculous, he just didn’t get registered after he got the bite.” Grantaire listens for a long moment, and Marius tries not to fidget. “Okay, sure. So if we do this tonight, when do you think you’ll be – that quick? Well, practice does make perfect I guess.” Grantaire laughs again. He holds out the phone to Marius, gesturing for him to take it.

 

“Hello?” says Marius.

 

“Hello friend of R!” says the cheerful voice on the other end of the line. It’s a man’s voice, young, speaking fast. “Now, to do this properly I’m going to need your complete honesty and cooperation, can you do that?”

 

“Yes,” says Marius nervously.

 

“Excellent! Great! So, tell me everything that happened when you got your bite.”

 

It takes about an hour for Marius to give all the information they need.

 

Marius looks over at Grantaire after he hangs up the phone. “So what happens now?”

 

“Short version? They put the information into their program, give it to me, I put it onto the police system, and then _ta-da_ ,” says Grantaire, “you’re a registered werewolf.”

 

“Wait, but how do you get it onto the police system?” asks Marius.

 

Grantaire shrugs. “I’ll get arrested.”

 

“ _Grantaire_ –” says Marius.

 

“It’s the easiest way to get inside the building,” says Grantaire. “I guess we have a little while to think of something else though, if you don’t want to do it that way.”

 

 

(Although Grantaire is open is suggestions of other ways to do this, he has absolutely no intention of letting Marius go into a police station to change his own record.)

 

 

The next few days pass the same way. Grantaire has an almost permanent scowl on his face. He stops calling Enjolras, opting instead to stare at his phone. Les Amis seem to be in Marius’ peripheral vision whenever he’s on campus, like they’re keeping an eye on him in case of attack. It’s frustrating, to say the least.

 

He calls Cosette in between classes. “Hey! Uh, hey Cosette. This is the last call I’m going to make to you, then I swear, I’ll stop calling, I just, I wanted to say that I’m sorry I wasn’t truthful with you. And that I totally get that you don’t want to talk to me.” Marius sighs. “I just, I wish you did. I miss you.”

 

When Grantaire and Marius get to the parking garage that afternoon, Cosette is leaning against Marius’ car.

 

Marius’ mouth goes dry. “Um.”

 

Grantaire recovers first. “Hello Cosette.”

 

Cosette smiles. “Hello. Marius, can you give me a ride home? I need to talk to you.”

 

“Sure he can!” says Grantaire.

 

“Grantaire –”

 

“No, it’s fine, I can just walk home. It’s not that far,” says Grantaire. He pushes Marius forward. “I’ll be fine.” He pushes Marius again, his smile strained. “Go.”

 

He starts walking away before Marius can say anything else. “Well, then I guess I can give you a ride home?”

 

Cosette smiles at him again. There’s a tense silence until they pull out of the parking lot, Cosette’s heart a steady beat over the car engine.

 

“You, um, you needed to talk to me?” asks Marius. He looks at Cosette out of the corner of his eye.

 

Cosette hesitates, hands clasped in her lap. “About the night we went after Montparnasse’s pack, I –”

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, okay? I’m really, really sorry, and I –” says Marius, because if he doesn’t get this out he might never get another chance to tell her.

 

“That’s not it,” says Cosette, “and you should know that I don’t care about whether or not people are werewolves. I care that you _lied_ to me.”

 

“I know,” says Marius.

 

“And I’m worried about you,” says Cosette, “being unregistered is really dangerous.”

 

Marius drums his finger on the wheel. “Well, I’m, um, I’m working on that. I mean, Grantaire knows some people, so we’re working on it.”

 

Cosette raises her eyebrows. “ _Grantaire_ knows some people? Are you sure it’s safe?”

 

Marius glances at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the road, frowning. “What do you mean?”

 

Cosette hesitates again. “Can you really trust him with this? I mean, he had wolfsbane bullets.”

 

“He saved Enjorlas’ life with that bullet,” says Marius.

 

“I’m not debating that, I’m debating whether it’s…safe to trust someone with those hunting skills.”

 

This is so not how Marius wanted this conversation to go. “Cosette, what is it exactly that you wanted to talk to me about?”

 

“Well,” says Cosette slowly, “since we know you’re a werewolf now, and you’re on your own, we were thinking you might like to join our pack. _Just_ you.”

 

Cosette has timed this perfectly. As Marius pulls up he can hear the others in the house, talking and laughing, waiting to welcome him. It’s everything he’s ever wanted on a platter.

 

Marius thinks of Grantaire, walking home to an empty house, and his chest aches sharply. This might be a pack and safety in numbers, everything he’d ever wished for while riding out a full moon alone, but if Grantaire can’t be there with him then he doesn’t want it anymore.

 

“I can’t,” says Marius.

 

Cosette’s face falls. “Marius, you can’t be serious. It’s dangerous out there for an Omega, being alone is –”

 

“But I’m not alone.” Cosette looks like she wants to argue further, but Marius cuts her off. “Pack doesn’t mean the same thing for everyone. I’m not alone, Cosette.”

 

Cosette gives him a strange look. She’s halfway out of the door when she turns back. “There’s a rally tomorrow. At least come and talk to Enjolras before you decide something like this.”

 

“Yeah,” says Marius, “yeah, okay.”

 

Marius barely remembers the drive back home, thinking about all of Les Amis waiting for him, wanting him to be part of their pack.

 

They wanted him, but not Grantaire.

 

It wasn’t really even a choice.

 

His phone vibrates as he walks in the door.

 

 **From R:** don’t worry I’ll be home soon, just have to pick up a thing

 

Marius wanders around the house for a while before settling in Grantaire’s room. He sits cross-legged in the middle of Grantaire’s bed, and thinks about the wolfsbane, history books, and weaponry hidden underneath. When he breathes in everything smells of Grantaire, and it grounds him, helping him push his wolf back to sleep.

 

It takes Grantaire another hour to get home.

 

“Marius?” he calls from the doorway. “You here?”

 

“Upstairs,” Marius calls back.

 

Grantaire leans against the doorway. “Are you okay? How’d things go with Cosette?”

 

Marius looks down at his hands. “Okay? I think? I don’t know.”

 

Grantaire sits across from him, mimicking Marius’ position. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

 

Marius frowns. “She asked me to be part of their pack.”

 

“Hey, that’s great,” says Grantaire. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

“Yeah, it was great,” says Marius. “I said no.”

 

“What?” Grantaire looks stunned.

 

“She said they wanted me, but not you.” Marius shrugs. “So I said no.”

 

“Oh,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius looks up, smiling a little. “Yeah, oh.”

 

Grantaire’s smile back is hesitant, but real.

 

“So where were you tonight?”

 

Grantaire pulls a small envelope out of the pocket of his hoodie, handing it to Marius. “Picking up your new life.”

 

Marius shakes the envelope, and in it is a single USB stick. It’s tiny, for something that has the power to change his life. “This is it?”

 

Grantaire nods. “That’s it. We just plug it into the police system and it puts the info in place for us.

See, when they arrest you, the first thing they do is a wolf test. When they see that I’m fully human, they bring me out of lock up to apologise. All I have to do is wait to be left semi-unattended and then plug that into one of the computers. The USB does its thing, hacks the system or whatever, and then you’re fully legal and registered. Done!”

 

Marius turns the USB over in his hands. “I still don’t know if I like you going in there. What if you get caught?”

 

Grantaire pokes Marius with his foot, smiling across at him. “Then I just won’t get caught.”

He takes the USB back, slipping it back into his pocket.

 

“How are you even going to get arrested? You’re just going to go out and commit some random crime?” asks Marius.

 

“I’ll just have to wait until an opportunity presents itself,” says Grantaire. His fingers twitch against his phone, tapping out the same beat they’ve been doing all week.

 

“Cosette said they’re having a rally tomorrow,” says Marius. “Enjolras will be there.”

 

Grantaire’s smile has a bitter edge to it. “You mean she told _you_ to go to the rally tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah, okay, she said me,” says Marius, because he’s never had a reason to lie to Grantaire and he doesn’t want to start now. “But I’m inviting you. It’s tomorrow.”

 

Grantaire looks down at his phone. “Can I get back to you in the morning?”

 

Marius nods. They sit together on Grantaire’s bed for the rest of the night. Marius falls asleep to the sound of Grantaire’s steady heartbeat as he sketches, a reminder that Marius isn’t alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is always loved: fangirl-squee.tumblr.com/ask


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust is an important commodity between two packs, but it seems as though it might be in short supply between Les Amis and Marius and Grantaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For full notes see Chapter 1. More brief mentions of Teen Wolf characters, but you don’t need to be familiar with Teen Wolf to understand this chapter (quickly though, for those of you who haven't watch it, Danny = good with computers).
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful tumblr user besanii.

The air is chilly the next morning. Their breath fogs the air in the kitchen as Grantaire makes tea. He’s half asleep, a lumpy knitted blanket draped around his shoulders. Marius, thanks to werewolf biology, doesn’t feel as cold. He leans against Grantaire, wrapping his arms around his sides and resting his head against Grantaire’s shoulder to help him keep warm.

 

 _It’s nice like this_ , thinks Marius, _peaceful._

 

Neither of them mentions the rally as they eat breakfast and look over the local paper. Marius likes the human interest stories and the section on the local government, and Grantaire enjoys mocking the horoscopes and reading through the ‘for sale/wanted to buy’ section. Today, they’re both quiet. Grantaire stares through the grimy window.

 

“They’re probably setting up now,” says Grantaire, his voice still rough from sleep.

 

Marius hums noncommittally in response.

 

He thinks it over while he’s in the shower. Just because Les Amis aren’t his pack doesn’t mean they’re not his friends, and it’s not as though he’s stopped believing in what Les Amis can do. He likes that feeling he’d had during their meetings, as though he was making a difference just by speaking up. And Cosette had asked him to go, so he’s pretty sure that Grantaire would understand.

 

When Marius comes downstairs to head out, Grantaire’s waiting for him in his old army surplus jacket. He holds Marius’s coat out for him.

 

Marius smiles sheepishly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

 

Grantaire smiles. “Come on, let’s go see revolutionaries in their natural habitat.”

 

When they get there, it’s not so much a rally as it is a riot. Later, they’ll find out it started out small, a few of the protestors hurling rocks at the police along with their words, building to a three-block circle of chaos. It was a good thing they’d decided to walk, they would never have gotten the car through.

 

Right then, in that moment, all Marius knows is that _he has to find Cosette_.

 

Grantaire’s face is pale. “Can you hear them over this?”

 

Marius reaches out and takes his hand, focuses for a moment on the warm-safe anchor of Grantaire. “I think so. Give me a minute.”

 

It’s loud. There are so many heartbeats, so many scents. Marius breathes, letting the sounds and scents wash over him. _There_.

 

“I found them, this way,” says Marius.

 

They push their way through the crowd. He can hear Cosette clearer as they get closer, and her heart speeds up as she fights to get out, dodging police (heartbeats fast and steady, metallic-burnt smell of guns clinging to them). He feels his wolf rise up and he doesn’t stop it, he doesn’t _want_ to stop it, not if it can get him to Cosette faster. He drags Grantaire through the crowd, and they’re almost there, he can see her, and –

 

Grantaire pulls him to a stop before they get any closer. “Marius, you need to _calm down_.”

 

Marius does take a few breaths, refocusing on the solid grip of Grantaire’s hand in his. His wolf retreats of its own accord, but it doesn’t go back to sleep. He can’t get enough of a focus to do that, not with Cosette so close to danger. Grantaire looks around in a wide circle, making note of the approaching police.

 

“You get them out,” says Grantaire.

 

“What about you?”

 

Grantaire grins, wide and dangerous. “I’m going to do what I do best; get arrested. Two birds with one stone.”

 

“Grantaire, wait –“

 

He disappears through the crowd before Marius can stop him. Marius pushes his way towards Cosette. He can see a few other Les Amis members there too – Enjolras (heart beating slightly faster than its normal pace), Courfeyrac (as always, he smells slightly of cinnamon), Bahorel (blood, his knuckles are split where he’s hit someone), and Feuilly (pain fading from bruises as his wolf heals them).

 

“Marius? What –” Enjolras’ eyes are wild. He’s looking behind Marius, eyes searching for someone.

 

“You have to get out of here,” says Marius.

 

Enjolras opens his mouth, and there’s a shout from behind them. Marius turns in time to see Grantaire punching a police officer. There’s another officer staggering back from him, clutching his bloody nose.

 

“That’s our cue,” says Marius. They don’t move, so he adds, “please? Otherwise Grantaire’s getting arrested for no reason.”

 

“Getting arrested?” says Enjolras, craning his neck to look around Marius. He looks like he might spring forward towards Grantaire, his body a tight coil of energy.

 

Cosette looks straight at Marius. For the space of a heartbeat, the world seems to fade away until it’s just the two of them. He wants to tell her something, anything really, but it feels like every prepared speech has gone right out of his head. Someone slams into him from behind as they push to get out of the crowd, and the world snaps back into focus.

 

Cosette looks away. The ache in his chest _twists_.

 

“Well then,” says Cosette, grabbing hold of Enjolras’ hand, “we’d better get out of here.”

 

She leads the way, with Marius occasionally changing their course when his wolf senses something. It’s hard to hear over the crowd, so he ends up putting a hand on her arm and gesturing. Marius tries to focus on the direction they should take rather than the warmth of Cosette’s arm under his hand. Her pulse is quick, but outwardly she seems calm, looking back occasionally to make sure the others are following behind them.

 

“Where now?” asks Marius, once they’ve made it to the edge of the crowd.

 

Cosette leads them quickly down one alleyway, then another. Enjolras keeps glancing back as they walk, like he’s expecting the police (or maybe Grantaire) to be following them. It makes Marius twitchy. He tries to focus on something grounding, like their footsteps or his breathing, but it’s hard without Grantaire there.

 

Cosette’s parked down an alley way, out of sight of surveillance cameras. The others quickly pile into the back seat, and Cosette turns to Marius.

 

“Did you bring your car?” Marius shakes his head. “You can ride with me. We organised a safe spot for re-grouping in case things got out of our control.”

 

Marius pauses hesitates. “I’m not sure if –“

 

“It’s not safe right now,” says Cosette, “I can drop you back home later. Right now, we all need to get out of the city.”

 

Marius and Enjolras squash into the front seat. Cosette drives them to the outskirts of the city, taking the back routes. The silence is heavy in the car, weighed down by the stares of the others. Marius keeps his eyes fixed out the window.

 

Cosette flicks glances at Marius every so often, but he doesn’t know what that might mean. She’d trusted what he’d said, enough to go along without questioning him. He doesn’t know what that means. He can’t really ask either, not with the others’ gazes burning into the back of his neck.

 

Their safe meeting spot turns out to be an abandoned lot on the edge of town, behind a row of storage sheds. The rest of Les Amis are waiting for them when they get there. Marius stands by Cosette’s car as the others check each other over. Jehan clings a little to Courfeyrac, as Joly and Combeferre check Enjolras over.

 

Marius can feel the worry radiating off them, but they seem to have made it out of the riots with only minor cuts and bruises. He fidgets, thinking of Grantaire charging at a police officer. He hopes Grantaire has had similar luck.

 

He’s just starting to think that maybe he’ll just slip off and avoid the inevitable confrontation, when his phone rings. The others stare, as though they’d forgotten he was even there.

 

Marius turns away to answer it. “Hello?”

 

“Hey, it’s me,” says Grantaire. He’s speaking fast, but he sounds calm enough. “I have to be quick; my legally-requestable phone call is only like sixty seconds long. I need you to get bail money and bring it down to the station to get me out.”

 

“How much do you need?” says Marius, thinking about his meagre bank account.

 

“Don’t worry about it. You know the box I keep under my bed?”

 

“Sure,” says Marius.

 

“At the bottom of box under the books is a yellow envelope with money in it, just bring it down to the station as soon as you can. Remember, be careful of your hands when you open the box.” There’s shouting in the background. “Listen, Marius, I have to go, but I’ll see you soon?”

 

“Yeah,” says Marius, “yeah okay, yellow envelope, asap. Did you get a chance to -”

 

“I will,” says Grantaire.

 

“Be safe,” says Marius, “Don’t do it if –”

 

Grantaire hangs up without saying goodbye, but from the yelling in the background Marius guesses it wasn’t by choice. Marius takes a deep breath in and out, trying to steady himself. Grantaire is _fine_ , he just has to do this one thing for Grantaire and then they can go home. When he turns back around to face the others they’re not even trying to pretend they weren’t staring at him.

 

He tries for a smile, but it probably comes out more like a grimace. “Can someone give me a ride back into town?”

 

“First, an explanation,” says Enjolras, “what were you two even _doing_ at the rally?”

 

“ _Enjolras_ ,” says Cosette.

 

Enjolras frowns. “I only meant that I wouldn’t have thought that someone like Grantaire would be interested in continuing his membership with our group. I didn’t expect you to be there either, given how you rejected our offer.”

 

Marius feels his hackles rise at that, and pushes his wolf back down. It’s harder without Grantaire’s safe-warm presence beside him, like his wolf is slipping out of his grasp inch by inch. “Just because I told you I already have a pack, did you think I just stopped wanting to be a part of Les Amis?”

 

Enjolras glares at him. “You _lied_ to us, and so did Grantaire –”

 

Marius cuts him off. “No, he didn’t. How many times did he tell you, did he tell _all_ of you that he wasn’t a werewolf? I mean, he did everything short of bringing in a blood test, and even then you probably would have just thought that he’d bribed the lab or something.”

 

Enjolras steps forward. “You were both purposefully being ambiguous! Grantaire _used_ you as a cover!”

 

He says the last part like it’s a trump card, like Marius is just going to roll over and agree with him. Marius can feel his wolf snarl, and he fights the urge to leap at Enjolras.

 

“That is _enough_ ,” Marius says, and his voice comes out as a growl. “Grantaire is a good friend, who covered for me because I asked him to, and I have had enough of everybody here treating me as though I’m the victim in this scenario.”

 

There’s silence, and Marius wonders if his ragged breathing is as loud to everybody else as it is to him as he pushes his wolf back down again. “Cosette said I should come to the rally, and Grantaire came with me. When we got there it was a total nightmare, and you guys getting arrested would end pretty terribly –”

 

“But Grantaire getting arrested won’t?” says Enjolras.

 

“It was his idea.” Marius’ stomach clenches at the thought of Grantaire sitting alone in a jail cell, waiting for him. He doesn’t have _time_ to stand here and try to change Enjolras’ mind. “Speaking of which, I really have to go, so if you guys don’t want to give me a ride I really need to start walking back now. I mean, it’s fine, you don’t have to, but the sooner I start walking, the sooner I can get Grantaire out of jail.”

 

“No offence,” says Courfeyrac, “but how are you going to get him out of jail?”

 

“The same way most people do, by paying a large sum of money. He just called me and said he had some in the house for emergencies, so I just need to bring it over to him,” says Marius. There’s no point in lying to them about this, not when they’ve already heard him on the phone.

 

“And he just has that bail money lying around?” Combeferre looks sceptical.

 

Marius breaths out through his nose. Getting riled up again won’t get Grantaire out any faster. “This isn’t the first time he’s gotten arrested for something like this. He’s taken precautions.”

 

 _Grantaire’s not an idiot_ , Marius wants to yell, _he thought this through even if it wasn’t Plan A. He wanted to stop you from getting hurt._

 

There’s a pause, and Marius is almost about to tell them he’ll just walk, when Cosette says, “I’ll take you.”

 

Marius didn’t expect that offer. He smiles gratefully at her. She gives a small smile in return.

 

Combeferre speaks to her in a low voice after Marius gets into the car, something about “being careful” and “not trusting him”. Marius tries not to look as if he can’t hear them, although he would have thought Combeferre would know better given he has werewolf hearing himself. Car doors aren’t exactly sound-proof.

 

The drive to Marius and Grantaire’s house is just as quiet as before, but the silence lacks the painful edge it had on their way out of town. Cosette takes a back route there, winding through the side streets. The small glances she gives him are just as indecipherable as before.

 

The house seems strangely quiet as they enter, the old carpet absorbing their footsteps. Cosette hesitates near the doorway, and Marius realises that this is the first time she’s been here. Marius feels suddenly very aware of the house’s flaws, from its cracked and peeling paint, to the patchy carpet beneath their feet. He knows their house isn’t particularly _nice_ in the traditional sense, but Marius hopes Cosette doesn’t hate it.

 

He tries for a reassuring smile. “It’s, um, the money’s upstairs, did you want to wait down here or, uh –”

 

“I’ll wait here, it’s fine,” says Cosette.

 

Marius nods, heading upstairs.

 

He pushes open Grantaire’s door (it gets a stuck on some dirty laundry). Marius moves a stack of sketch pads out of the way, and drops down, wriggling under the bed. It takes a bit of manoeuvring to get the box, but he wriggles back out again, pulling it with him. Marius has his hands covered with his sleeves to open the box, but the catches still stings his fingers a little. He makes a mental note to wash his hands before they leave. The last thing he needs today is wolfsbane burns.

 

Keeping his hands covered, Marius lifts out Grantaire’s rifle, which has been carefully taken apart and cleaned, along with a few bottles of dried flowers, and some of Grantaire’s more illegal books. Everything in the box has a strange musty scent, the dust and damp of the house mixing with the wolfsbane, making Marius’ nose wrinkle. Underneath the books is a plain yellow envelope, marked ‘EMERGENCY ONLY’ in Grantaire’s slanted handwriting. Marius checks inside and it is, as Grantaire said, filled with money. He puts everything carefully back in the way he’d found it, before pushing it back into its hiding place.

 

When he comes back downstairs, Cosette is looking at the paintings along the wall. Their main reason for display was to cover up the scratch-marks and holes left behind by previous tenants. It’s a series of landscapes – the city, a forest, a country field, and a lone house – all illuminated by a full moon. Marius has always thought of them as being peaceful, in an eerie way.

 

“They’re Grantaire’s,” says Marius, voice quiet, “the paintings, they’re Grantaire’s work. It’s what he does during my shift.”

 

“Oh,” says Cosette, “they’re very good.”

 

“That’s what I said,” says Marius, smiling.

 

Cosette smiles back at him, and it seems more solid than before.

 

Marius bites his lip on their way to the police station, an old nervous habit. It would be bad enough going in under normal circumstances, but if Grantaire’s gotten caught while messing around on the police system –

 

Marius shakes himself a little, trying to dislodge that train of thought. Grantaire is probably fine. All Marius has to do is go in and give the money to Grantaire. There’s no reason for the police to ask him for ID.

 

He gives Cosette a weak smile before they walk through the door, and she smiles back at him again, reaching out and squeezing his hand once before pulling away.

 

The station is busy when they arrive, probably a result of the riot if the amount of frowning parents and sheepish-looking college students is anything to go by. An officer escorts Grantaire to them, making a show of unlocking his handcuffs and apologising for the ‘mix up’. The officer gives them a small stack of forms and heads back around the counter to face another group of parents.

 

Grantaire looks surprised to see Cosette, but he grins tiredly at Marius all the same. It pulls on his split lip, and Marius can smell the blood welling to the surface. Grantaire leans on the counter as he looks over the forms, shifting his weight to his left. Marius resists the urge to check him over.

 

“Thanks for coming out,” says Grantaire.

 

“No problem,” says Marius, handing over the envelope.

 

“A mix up?” says Cosette.

 

Grantaire doesn’t look at her, gaze fixed firmly on the paperwork as he scribbles his signature. “Yeah, apparently they thought I was a werewolf. How about that, huh?”

 

Grantaire hands over the forms to the woman behind the desk and then digs through the envelope, pulling out the required bail money. There’s still some left over.

 

“They always reduce the bail amount after they mistake me for a werewolf,” Grantaire explains, as they exit the police station and head to Cosette’s car, “it’s their way of making sure I don’t sue, I guess. It’s a pretty standard practice.”

 

“Why don’t you?” says Cosette, curious.

 

Grantaire quirks an eyebrow. “What would be the point of raising a fuss?”

 

Cosette frowns, waiting to answer until they get seated in her car. She twists round to face Grantaire, sitting in the back. “There is plenty you could do by raising a fuss. You could show people how flaws in the current system promote prejudice –”

 

“But I don’t want that. I don’t want to become a cause for people to rally around. I just want to live my life.” Grantaire sounds tired.

 

“I’m not saying you have to be a rallying point for a cause, but don’t you feel at least a little annoyed by this sort of systematic practice?” ask Cosette.

 

Grantaire sighs. “This kind of prejudice is just human nature. It’s people looking at the facts available to them, and making an assumption. It’s one most people make about me. It’s one _you_ made about me, in fact. It’s not the same as what happens to actual werewolves. Actual werewolves, even registered ones, do not get out of holding cells that fast. I’m not saying,” Grantaire adds, as Cosette opens her mouth to interrupt, “that it’s fair. I’m just saying I cannot represent the werewolf community, because I am not a werewolf.”

 

Cosette hums thoughtfully, furrowed furrowed as she drives them back to their house. Grantaire rolls out of the backseat, wincing slightly as he straightens. As Marius moves to follow, Cosette reaches out to squeezes Marius’ hand again, but this time she keeps a hold of his hand.

 

She smiles at him. Something warm unfurls in his chest, muscles he hadn’t even realised he was tensing relax under the warmth of her gaze. It’s probably why Marius has the confidence to lean forward a little, before he stops, feeling awkward and foolish.

 

But then a small miracle happens: Cosette moves forward too. She presses a chaste kiss to Marius cheek. His face grows hot almost immediately and he grins so widely his face starts to hurt.

 

Cosette grins back. “Thank you for coming to the rally,” she says. She pauses, then adds, “And please thank Grantaire for me as well.”

 

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” says Marius. He can see Grantaire, waiting for him in the doorway. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you later?”

 

Cosette smiles again, smaller than before but just as warmly. “I’d like that.”

 

They watch the car drive around the corner before they go inside, heading up to Grantaire’s room. He flicks on the radio, static filling the room with its eerie white noise. Grantaire flops backwards on the bed, and Marius toes off his shoes before he joins him. Marius puts a hand on Grantaire’s wrist, drawing the pain out of him. Grantaire lets out a long, steady breath.

 

 “Well,” says Grantaire, “that went better than expected.”

 

“Are you okay?” asks Marius.

 

“A little sore, but I’ll heal. Thanks for today,” says Grantaire. He’s staring up at the ceiling.

 

“It was the least I could do, I mean, you helped, with Cosette. I think she might not hate me,” says Marius. He rubs a hand across his palm, where she’d grabbed his hand. His face still feels hot, cheek tingling where she’d kissed him ( _Cosette kissed him_!).

 

“Given how she said goodbye to you today, I’d say she likes you,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius feels his face grow hotter, and he rolls over to press it into Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire laughs.

 

“And I mean, you helped with the other thing,” says Marius into his shoulder, “the registration thing. Unless you didn’t get a chance to? Which is fine, I mean, I know it’s dangerous and –”

 

“I did it,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius leans back a little, smiling. “Really?”

 

Grantaire smiles back at him, wincing as it pulls again on his split lip. “Yeah. They left me alone for a couple of minutes after I came through as human. Speaking of which, we’d better get part two of this done before someone notices your records don’t match up.”

 

Grantaire’s quick on the phone this time. “Hey, it’s R … hey Danny! How’s life treating you?” Grantaire laughs. “All business, I like that … Yeah, we did it today, go ahead and change the other records … yeah, I’ll tell him.” Grantaire laughs again, grinning wide. “Yeah, you can tell Stilinski we’re even now … You guys stay safe, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

 

 

“You’ll have to change your IDs,” says Grantaire, dropping his phone over the edge of the bed. “They’ll get someone to drop them off in a day or two, so try not to use any of the ones you have now.”

 

“Okay,” says Marius.

 

He reaches out to take Grantaire’s hand again, feeling the tingle spread up his arm as he lessens the pain of Grantaire’s bruises. They’re both quiet for a few minutes, listening to the hiss of the radio. Grantaire grin fades as he stares up at the ceiling.

 

“I don’t think Enjolras hates you either, you know,” says Marius, because it seems like it needs to be said.

 

Grantaire snorts. “Whatever.”

 

Marius doesn’t have any response to that, so he just rolls back onto his side, curling a little into Grantaire and resting his head on Grantaire shoulder. He falls asleep like that, fully clothed, listening to Grantaire’s heart beat and feeling his arm tingle where  it touches Grantaire’s skin.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosette and Grantaire extend mutual olive branches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For full notes see Chapter 1. Contains references to Teen Wolf characters, but you can read this without having seen the show (although if you do watch the show you’re probably in agony right now. I know I am, because STILES).
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who sent messages or left comment and/or kudos, you guys are all so lovely.
> 
> And special thanks to my wonderful beta, tumblr user besanii.

Marius wakes up to the sunlight streaming across his eyes and the faint scent of bruises. He sits bolt upright and thinks _shit I am so late for class_. It must be almost midday.

 

“It’s a weekend,” says Grantaire, laughing.

 

Marius looks over at him. His lip has healed over in the night, but there’s a bruise Marius hadn’t noticed earlier along the right side of his face. The area around his eye looks swollen and painful. Despite that, he’s smiling over at Marius from where he’s sitting up against the headboard, a battered old novel open in one hand. He looks as though he’s been awake for some time.

 

Grantaire bats his hand away as he reaches out to touch him. “I can handle a little bit of pain. Besides, it’s probably not good for you to be absorbing pain twenty four seven.”

 

Marius lets his hand fall back into his lap. “It’s fine. I mean, why have this power if I can’t use it to help someone?”

 

Grantaire makes a face. “What’s the good of having a healing power that leads to you getting hurt? Just give it a break.”

 

Marius frowns. “If you’re sure.”

 

Grantaire huffs, wincing slightly as he stretches. “They’re just _bruises_ Marius. I’ve dealt with worse without relying on werewolf painkillers.”

 

Marius can see splotches of purple-yellow bruises along Grantaire’s side where his t-shirt rides up. They’re on the same side as the faded scar of his bite, the bruises highlighting the puckered line of teeth marks. Marius rubs absently over his own bite, feeling the familiar ridges through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

 

 

(He avoids thinking about it, the physical reminder of that moment (sharp teeth clamping down on his shoulder, fear and pain and blood). The bite mark is the only scar Marius has, and since he has werewolf healing it’s the only one he’ll ever have again in his life.

 

Grantaire’s bite left him no different from his other scars. It’s not even the worst-looking one - there’s a puckered line down his back, almost like he’s been burned along the scar. It makes him a little queasy to look at it in the mirror, remembering the vicious intent behind it and the absolute certainty that his last moments of life were going to be in pure agony.)

 

 

“You okay?” says Grantaire, giving him an odd look.

 

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” says Marius, hand still on  his bite, “just thinking.”

 

“It’s the weekend, you’re allowed a break from serious thought,” says Grantaire.

 

“No, I mean, I was just thinking how scars are weird,” says Marius.

 

Grantaire laughs. “As something of an expert in that particular field I would certainly agree. They’re pretty good for keeping track of memories though.”

 

“It won’t help me with that though,” says Marius, “I mean, I only have one, so that’s one memory.”

 

Grantaire hits his shoulder with his book. “That’s what you’ve got me for. I’m a walking memory bank. And anyway, you’re more than just one moment in your life, no matter how life-defining you might think that moment is.”

 

Marius smiles at him. They go downstairs, and Marius gets the newspaper from the doorstep while Grantaire heads to the kitchen, flicking on the radio for the midday news hour.

 

_\- Causing speculation to continue over the possible connection between yesterday’s riots and the series of werewolf muggings,_ says the clipped male voice, _So far police officials have neither confirmed nor denied these rumours. A high-level source within the mayor’s office told reporters today that the group responsible for the riots will potentially go under police observation. This –_

 

Grantaire turns the radio off with an annoyed grunt. “Typical.”

 

“What is?” says Marius. He’s distracted by the newspaper’s headline of ‘CITY-WIDE RIOT’, and the large colour photo of protestors pushing against police riot shields. The police officers’ faces are hidden by helmets and riot shields, and the protestors’ faces are twisted in rage, and it looks like the photo was taken moments before the riot broke out. It’s not really a good look for either side.

 

“They can’t find the real culprits, so they’re going to pin the muggings on Les Amis,” says Grantaire, glaring at the now-silent radio.

 

Marius’ stomach clenches. The newspaper article lists the total property damage caused by the protestors alongside an editorial calling for harsher werewolf restrictions in public areas. It’s not unusual for a paper to publish an editorial about werewolf restrictions, especially with the city still on edge from the muggings. It’s not usually so prominent in the paper though, and Marius closes his eyes for a moment.

 

He bites his lip, thinking. “You don’t think they’re going to try and make Les Amis pay for any of this do you? I mean, it wasn’t their fault things got so out of control.”

 

Grantaire looks at the list over Marius’ shoulder. He snorts, pointing at a few of the places listed. “These places, and that one, they’re nowhere near where the riots w                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       ere, so they’ll probably retract their statements if any lawyers start getting involved. Everything else though, maybe. If they can make a case for the riot being intentional. Hopefully the police don’t go so far as to bring any of them in for questioning.”

 

Marius hums in agreement, worrying his lip between his teeth as he reads through the rest of the editorial. His phone buzzes, and they both jump. Marius stares at the screen, then up at Grantaire, then back down to the screen again.

 

“Are you okay?” says Grantaire.

 

“It’s Cosette,” he whispers.

 

“So I guess that’s a ‘no’ on being okay then?” says Grantaire. When Marius doesn’t move, he adds: “You should probably answer before she hangs up.”

 

Marius takes a deep breath in and out. His hand trembles as he swipes a finger across the screen to answer the phone because _Cosette is calling him, Cosette wants to talk to him_.

 

“Hey Cosette, hi!”

 

Grantaire laughs and Marius pushes his shoulder. Grantaire grins at him, holding up both hands and moving away to pour tea for the both of them.

 

“Hello,” says Cosette. She sounds like she’s smiling, the sound of traffic in the background.

 

Marius leans on the counter, foot tapping a nervous beat against the worn linoleum.

 

“So,” he says, trying for casual (or at least to keep his voice from cracking), “what’s up?”

 

“A lot, but I could _seriously_ use a break,” says Cosette, “are you doing anything right now?”

 

“Um, uh – no, I’m not doing anything right now,” says Marius, trying to keep his tone normal.

 

“Would you like to do something? With me I mean,” says Cosette. “We really should talk.”

 

“I, yes, I’d like that,” says Marius. He feels a little like he might be having a heart attack. “Did you want me to meet you somewhere?”

 

“I’m close to campus, so we could meet here and get coffee somewhere or something?”

 

“Sounds great!” says Marius, “Um, I’ll see you there soon?”

 

“Okay,” says Cosette, “Bye Marius, see you in a little bit.”

 

“Bye!” says Marius.

 

He sets the phone down on the counter and leans heavily against it, covering his face with his hands.  Grantaire puts a cup of tea next to him, and leans his head on Marius’ shoulder.

 

“Relax, it sounded like you did great.”

 

“Cosette wants to meet me on campus right now, to talk,” says Marius. It comes out a little muffled through his hands.

 

“Sounds like good news,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius sighs, uncovering his face. “It is, I think? Do you think maybe - I don’t know, this could be like a second chance thing?”

 

 “I think even if it’s not, the fact that she wants to talk things through with you is a good sign,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius runs a finger around the rim of his mug. “It would be good to talk to her. I mean…I – it’s been weird, not seeing her since the thing with Montparnasse’s pack. It’s like…” he searches for the right words, “there’s this feeling in my chest when she’s not around.”

 

Grantaire gives him a crooked smile. “Well. Sounds like love to me.”

 

Grantaire keeps talking to him as he gets ready, keeping him distracted from the fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever he thinks about how _Cosette called him… Cosette wants to see him_. He fusses around with his hair for ten minutes before Grantaire pushes him downstairs and out the door.

 

“You’ll be _fine_ ,” says Grantaire, as he guides Marius towards the car, “she called you, okay? She _wants_ to see you.”

 

Marius has to pull over on the way there, his hands white-knuckled on the wheel. He takes a deep breath in and out before he pulls back onto the road. There’s a faint scent of Grantaire on the passenger seat, and it helps Marius anchor himself enough to drive the rest of the way without having to pull over again.

 

He checks his phone after he parks, and there’s a text from Cosette.

 

**[from Cosette]:** I’m just in the library, let me know when you get here.

 

He’s too nervous to call, so he walks to the library instead. She’s in her usual spot, at the back of the Classical Literature section. She doesn’t see him approach as she stares out the window, pen held loosely in her hand, with several books spread open in front of her.

 

Marius coughs. “Um, hey.”

 

Cosette smiles at him. It’s like the sunrise. “Hey! You didn’t have to come all the way up here. I could have met you downstairs.”

 

Marius curls his fingers to stop them from fidgeting. “Sorry.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” says Cosette. “I’ll just need a minute to pack this stuff up and then we can head out.”

 

He curls his fingers again. “Okay. Did you want me to help with anything? I mean, um, I could carry some of the books, if you wanted?”

 

Cosette smiles at him again and something loosens in his chest, making it easier to breathe. He relaxes his hands. “Sure, if you want to. I’m not getting out that many.”

 

Marius carries her books as they walk down the stairs. He’s glad he has something to do with his hands at least, since he’s still not quite sure what to say. They head outside after she checks out the books, and the sunlight makes Cosette’s hair shine a brilliant gold. He runs a thumb along the spine of one of the books he’s holding.

 

“Um, so, you said you wanted to talk?” says Marius.

 

“I think we have a lot to talk about – unless…” Cosette bites her lip, “unless you don’t want to?”

 

“No, no – I do!” Marius says quickly.

 

Cosette’s face clears and she smiles. “Good. We could go to that café we went to before?”

 

Marius smiles. “I’d like that.”

 

They keep things simple as they walk, talking about her father and homework assignments. There’s a pause when they seat themselves across from each other in the booth. Marius taps his fingers against the Styrofoam cup.

 

“So,” says Marius, “what did you really want to talk to me about?”

 

“Short answer? Everything,” says Cosette. “With everything that’s been happening, we’ve never gotten a chance to talk about anything, not really. And I feel like I haven’t tried as hard as I could to get your view on what’s been going on.”

 

“You mean what’s been going on with Grantaire,” says Marius.

 

Cosette frowns. “I’m not going to pretend he isn’t part of that, but it’s more than that. It’s –”

 

“It’s a _big_ part of _that_ ,” says Marius, making an effort to keep his voice low. “Look, Cosette, I love you, but you have to understand that Grantaire is my pack and I can’t just – what?”

 

Cosette’s mouth is open in shock. “You _love_ me?”

 

Marius can feel his face heat up. He hadn’t meant to say that. Or rather, he had always meant to say it at some point, he’d just been hoping it would be under entirely different circumstances. “I – um, yes. Sorry. But, I mean -”

 

“No, I think we’re going to need a few more minutes on this topic,” says Cosette. “So, you love me, and you’re sorry about loving me?”

 

He looks down at the table top. “I guess? I mean, I’m not, I can’t help it, it’s just,” he waves a hand, gesturing to his chest, “ _there_ , all the time, the feeling that I, um, I love you. And so, you know, I’m sorry, because I don’t want to mess up your life any more than I already have, and -”

 

Cosette reaches out and cover his hand with hers. “Marius, I love you too.”

 

“You – really?” Marius can’t do anything except blink at her. He’s pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting because _Cosette is holding his hand_ and _Cosette is saying she loves him_.

 

Cosette laughs, delighted. “Yes, _really_. I thought you might feel the same way about me after we first met, but then you and Grantaire went on that road trip, and after that it seemed like maybe you were avoiding me, so I thought …”

 

“I’m sorry,” says Marius again, “I didn’t mean to. Well, I did, but I didn’t mean for you to be hurt by it. I was trying to protect you.”

 

Cosette raises her eyebrows. “Protect me?”

 

“It was after that bill failed, the one that would have made changes to werewolf rights? And I don’t know.” Marius sighs. “I wasn’t registered. If we’d been together and I’d been found out, you would have been in serious trouble.”

 

“I think that should have been my call to make, don’t you?” says Cosette.

 

“I didn’t want to put you in a position where you _had_ to make that sort of choice,” says Marius.

 

 “You can’t make that sort of decision for other people,” says Cosette, voice gentle, “and you can’t protect everyone.”

 

“Maybe not, but I can try to protect the people I care about,” says Marius. Cosette squeezes his hand, and he looks up, meeting her gaze. “I really am sorry that I wasn’t honest with you though.”

 

“I forgive you,” says Cosette, “as long as you never do it again.”

 

“I promise,” says Marius, quickly.

 

“And with that in mind, I’d like to talk to you about Grantaire,” says Cosette.

 

Marius feels his stomach drop. He tries to keep his voice even. “He’s my pack, I already told you, I can’t just –”

 

Cosette raises both hands, silencing him. “I wasn’t going to ask about that. I made my offer, you said no, that’s fine. I just …” She lets out a breath. “He’s your pack. I’d like to get to know your pack.”

 

“You’re not going to ask me if he’s a dangerous hunter?” says Marius. His tone is a little bitter.

 

Cosette frowns. “I’m not going to pretend that’s not something I’m worried about. He had wolfsbane bullets and he knew how to use them. You need to at least consider the possibility.”

 

Marius sighs. “I _did_ consider that. You – I mean, all of Les Amis, you seem to think that I just started to follow him blindly from the moment we met. I know I’m not the smartest person in the world, but I’m not an _idiot_.”

 

Cosette raises an eyebrow. “So what is it exactly that made you trust him?”

 

 

(It’s hard to pin down where that spark of trust had begun. It’s seeing Grantaire’s bite, or the look on Grantaire’s face when Marius had showed him his own. It’s nights spent watching over Marius during his shift, or the memory of tingling rushing up his arm as he takes away the pain of Grantaire’s hangover. It’s looking over at Grantaire over a box of illegal werewolf history books and Grantaire grinning back.

 

It’s more than that though. That feeling of _pack_ , the warm-safe anchor of Grantaire, is more like one of his senses. It happened without him realising it, and there’s no way to pinpoint for sure when his wolf had decided that Grantaire was pack.

 

Grantaire would say it’s when Marius saw the box of wolfsbane bullets and stuck around long enough to listen to Grantaire explain himself.)

 

 

He was the first person I ever told about my bite, and he didn’t…” Marius pauses, trying to find the right way to describe it. “He didn’t look at me any differently. I can ask him things about werewolf history or whatever, and he’ll tell me. He knows a lot about it, since he’s travelled with different pack and things. I mean, that’s how he was able to help me get registered.”

 

Cosette doesn’t look convinced, but her expression has lost the hard edge. “How did he help you get registered?”

 

Marius taps his fingers against his cup again. He’s not sure that ‘extremely illegally’ is the best way to describe what Grantaire had done, even if it was the most honest. “He, um, he knows this pack over in California who help werewolves get registered in a way that’s more…um, under the radar.”

 

“You mean he did it illegally,” says Cosette.

 

“I …” Marius sighs again. “Yeah, okay, he did, but any legal way would have landed me in jail at this point. And the pack that did it backdated everything in the system.”

 

“You could get into serious trouble if you get found out,” says Cosette.

 

“So could Grantaire,” says Marius, “he’s the one who changed my police records.”

 

“Is that why he got himself arrested yesterday?”

 

Marius takes a breath in. Honesty might be better for this in the long run but it certainly was more stressful. “It’s part of the reason. I wanted him to find a different way, but he knows more about this stuff than I do. And anyway, once he saw that Enj –”  the corners of Cosette’s mouth twitch “- that _Les Amis_ were in danger, there wasn’t really any stopping him.”

 

“Well, I certainly appreciated not being arrested or attacked yesterday. Papa was frantic enough as it was. I’m sure the others appreciated it as well.” Cosette hesitated for a moment. “He said that he’d been arrested on similar charges before?”

 

Marius bit his lip. “It’s, um, I don’t know that he would want me to talk about it. I know I promised honesty, but it’s not my place to tell you about his past.”

 

“Do you think he would tell me?” says Cosette.

 

“What?”

 

“If I went to see him with you, do you think he’d give me an honest answer?” says Cosette.

 

“I guess that would depend on whether you were willing to listen to it,” says Marius.

 

“Fair enough. Shall we go?” Cosette stands.

 

Marius blinks up at her. “What, now?”

 

“Did you have another time in mind?”

 

“Well, no, but –“

 

“Then we’ll go now,” says Cosette.

 

Marius taps out a quick text as they walk. If it means things between them get cleared up he’d rather they talk now, but Grantaire deserves at some warning.

 

**[to Grantaire]:** C’s cmng bck w/me 2 tlk 2 u

**[to Grantaire]:** ALSO C SAID SHE LVS ME!!!!!! pls try 2 b nice ok

 

When Grantaire opens the door to greet them, and Marius feels a burst of relief. He was half-expecting Grantaire to have left.

 

Grantaire leans against the doorframe, blocking their way inside and holding a bag of frozen peas to the side of his face. Marius rolls his eyes, pushing it out of the way and feeling the familiar tingle in his arm. Even in the shadow of the doorway the bruise along the side of his face is striking.

 

After a moment, Grantaire bats his hand away again. He leans around Marius to look at Cosette. “I understand you have some things you’d like to discuss with me?”

 

“If that’s all right with you?” says Cosette.

 

Grantaire steps back to let them inside. His face is blank as Cosette passes him, but as Marius walks passed him he raises him eyebrows.   _Sorry_ Marius mouths. Grantaire shrugs, leading them to the kitchen.

 

“Did you want tea or anything?” asks Marius.

 

“No, thank you,” says Cosette.

 

There’s a long pause. The air is heavy with their combined anxiety, making it hard for him to focus. Marius taps a beat on the table top, trying to anchor himself to Grantaire’s safe-warm presence.

 

“Look,” says Cosette, “maybe this was a mistake.”

 

“No,” says Marius quickly, “no, it’s okay, right Grantaire?”

 

Grantaire glances at Marius, and shrugs again. “Ask whatever you want.”

 

Cosette does. She asks about the werewolf packs he’d travelled with, and they talk about points of werewolf history, trading dates, names, and trivia facts faster than Marius can keep up with. After a while it stops feeling like some bizarre competition, and Marius can feel himself start to relax.

 

Which is, of course, when Cosette turns to the topic of hunter groups.

 

“So where _did_ you get wolfsbane bullets?” says Cosette.

 

Grantaire smirks at her. “From a highly questionable source.”

 

Cosette raises an eyebrow. “Really, that’s what you’re going to give me?”

 

Grantaire lets out a long breath. “Well, you’re probably not going to believe me when I tell you, but I didn’t actually get them from a hunter group, not _technically_ anyway. I got them from the Stilinski pack.”

 

Cosette gives him a disbelieving look. “Seriously? If you’re going to lie I think you’d pick something a little more believable than that.”

 

“Believe whatever you want. I stayed with the Stilinski pack a couple of years ago, and when I left they gave me some stuff as a goodbye thing.” Grantaire shrugs.

 

“The Stilinski pack? As in named after Stiles Stilinski, who organised successful diplomatic talks between two werewolf packs and the human population?”

 

“And two groups of hunters,” says Grantaire, “don’t forget about them. Although that was all pretty much done with by the time I met him.”

 

Cosette’s eyes widen. “Wait, that’s the California pack that helped you get Marius registered? You got the _Stilinski pack_ to help _you_? How?”

 

Grantaire’s smirk is back. “I helped them out with a problem they were having, so they kind of owed me a favour. I figured helping Marius out was a good enough reason to call it in.”

 

“I think I’m going to need a minute to process this,” says Cosette. “You know Stiles Stilinski, and he owed you a favour.” Grantaire nods, looking like he’s holding in laughter. “Grantaire! Stilinski started a revolutionary process in America! He’s proven that humans and werewolves can work together for a common good! He’s…he’s…” Cosette seems lost for words. “A trailblazing diplomat! Why didn’t you say anything before?”

 

 

(He doesn’t because it’s strange for Grantaire to think of Stiles that way. Grantaire’s strongest memory of Stiles is a very human one - grabbing a greasy meal from an all-night diner at two in the morning after a near-miss with a passing werewolf pack. Stiles talking through a mouthful of curly fries about the Mets, his face lighting up as he manages to draw Danny and Lydia into the conversation, as he and Scott argue about statistics, blushing a little as Lydia makes a comment about a player’s arms.

 

Marius had heard about the Stilinski pack before Grantaire mentioned they owed him a favour, of course, but he hadn’t really made the connection between the hard-edged diplomat Stilinski that Enjolras had praised in Les Amis meetings and the teenage goofball Stiles from Grantaire’s anecdotes.)

 

 

Grantaire laughs, and this time there is no edge to it. “If you say so.”

 

“How did you even –”Cosette’s phone rings, cutting her off. “Sorry,” she says, looking down at the screen, “it’s Enjolras, I should probably take this. He’s been going a little crazy since the rally.”

 

“I can imagine,” says Grantaire mildly.

 

She takes the phone call into the hall. Grantaire takes a sip of coffee and Marius leans his head against Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire’s muscles feel tense under his head, and he twitches a little when Cosette re-enters a few moments later.

 

“Sorry,” says Cosette, picking up her bag from the counter. “I have to go. Enjolras has started planning the next Les Amis thing and he needs me there.”

 

“That’s okay,” says Marius, “did you need me to drive you –”

 

“No, it’s okay, he said that Courfeyrac’s swinging by on his way past,” says Cosette.

 

Marius keeps a smile fixed to his face. “Oh, okay.”

 

Cosette hesitates in the kitchen doorway. “You could walk me to the end of your block though? If you wanted to.”

 

This time, smiling takes no effort at all. “Sure, okay!”

 

Grantaire watches Marius pull on his coat, casual grace as he leans against the hallway wall, his face unreadable.

 

Cosette takes a breath. “Grantaire. I wanted to thank you, for speaking with me today –”

 

Grantaire waves a hand. “You don’t have to thank me for talking. Talking’s the easy part.”

 

“Not necessarily,” says Cosette.

 

Grantaire lets out a snort of laughter. “I suppose you’re right.” There’s a pause, and then Cosette turns to leave. “Wait, wait. Um, thank you as well, I guess. For listening.”

 

They smile at each other, a little hesitant, and Cosette extends a hand. Grantaire wipes his on hand on his jeans before he shakes it. The air in the hallway is no longer clouded by anxiety, and Marius feels as though he can breathe again.

 

As they walk down the steps of the house, Cosette trips on the loose paving stone on the second-to-last step. Marius reaches out and catches her hand, keeping her steady and she smiles at him in thanks.

 

She keeps holding his hand, gesturing with her other as she talks. Their fingers tangled together in a perfect fit. When they reach the edge of the block he can see Courfeyrac waiting for her, dusty blue car idling on the curb. He’s so distracted he doesn’t even really notice Cosette is moving closer until she tugs a little on his hand, smiling at him as she chastely kisses his lips.

 

It’s their first kiss, and it only lasts for about three seconds before Cosette is pulling away, smiling at him. He smiles back at her, lips tingling and face hot.

 

“It was good to see you today,” Marius manages to say.

 

“It was good to see you too,” says Cosette, “we should do it again tomorrow.”

 

“I – really?” says Marius.

 

Cosette laughs. “Yes, really. I’ll call you – keep a space free in your busy schedule for me.”

 

Marius feels as though he might burst. “Yes, okay, yes.”

 

She waves at him as the car drives away, and he waves back, grin wide and goofy. It stays that way all the way home, and he keeps bringing a hand up to touch his lips.

 

Grantaire takes one look at his expression and laughs. “Tone it down a little Pontmercy, you’ll strain a face muscle.”

 

Marius laughs. “She _kissed_ me! Grantaire,” he says breathlessly, grabbing hold of Grantaire’s shoulder and shaking him a little, “she kissed me! She _loves me back_! Cosette loves me!”

 

Grantaire smiles at him, putting his hands on Marius’ shoulders to stop him jumping up and down. “That’s great! I’m really happy for you.”

Marius continues to feel as though he’s bouncing off the walls for the rest of the afternoon, much to Grantaire’s amusement. He can’t concentrate on his assigned reading (because _Cosette loves him_ ) and can’t seem to make himself stop talking about Cosette (because _she kissed him, she loves him_ ), but Grantaire doesn’t seem to mind, listening as Marius rambles on, a lopsided smile on his face.

 

It’s not until much later, as he’s lying in bed staring up at the peeling paint on the ceiling that it occurs to him. He can hear Grantaire moving around across the hallway, the faint smell of graphite as his pencil scratching across the page. There’s another smell underneath that too, Grantaire’s bruises and a not-quite-sadness. It’s hard to pin down what it is exactly, but it’s certainly not a positive emotion. He knocks on Grantaire’s door.

 

“Yeah?” says Grantaire.

 

“Are you okay?” says Marius.

 

Grantaire sighs, and the scent spikes. “I’m fine, go to sleep.”

 

Marius frowns at the door. “Can I come in?”

 

“If you feel you must,” Grantaire says.

 

He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed at Marius enters, sketchpad in front of him. He _looks_ fine, but the scent is even stronger now that Marius has opened the door. Marius stays in the doorway.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks again.

 

Grantaire sets his pencil down on the page. “Marius, I’m _fine_ , okay.” When Marius doesn’t move, he sighs again. “Okay, maybe it’s a _little_ upsetting that my own blond-haired revolutionary doesn’t like me as much as yours does. But that’s fine, okay? Sometimes, the guy you like doesn’t want to see you and that’s just,” he waves a hand, “life.”

 

“Maybe he just doesn’t know what to say,” says Marius.

 

Grantaire’s smile has a bitter edge. “Or maybe he just doesn’t want to say anything at all.”

 

“Well,” says Marius slowly, “that doesn’t really sound like Enjolras.”

 

Grantaire huffs a laugh, not meeting his eyes. “That’s certainly true enough. I’ll guess you’ll know before I do, now that you’ve got an inside track to Les Amis.”

 

_Oh_ , thinks Marius. “I’m not going to be part of her pack.”

 

Grantaire looks up. “I thought …”

 

Marius shakes his head, coming to sit down on the edge of the bed. “ _You’re_ my pack remember? Who I’m dating doesn’t change that.”

 

“Oh,” says Grantaire. His voice sounds very small, and he gives Marius a shaky smile.

 

Marius smiles back, wrapping his arms around Grantaire shoulder and a tight hug. There’s a slight tingling where their bare skin comes in contact, as Marius absorbs the bruise’s throbbing ache.

 

Grantaire laughs and, this time, the bitterness underneath it is gone. “Okay, okay! Go back to bed, you giant sap.”

 

Marius laughs, releasing him. “ _You’re_ a giant sap.”

 

This time, as Marius stares at the peeling paint of his ceiling, the strange smell of sadness is gone. He falls asleep, thinking of the way Cosette had smiled at him when she left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note for those of you who /do/ watch Teen Wolf – the long, ugly scar on Grantaire’s back was from the Kanima (he doesn’t regret helping out the Stilinski pack, even if he doesn’t ever want to go back to Beacon Hills).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius and Cosette organise a pack meeting. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [usual apology for being so terrible at updating this]
> 
> but seriously, I am so sorry it's taken me so long. And also I thought this would be the last chapter but I guess that's, uh, not the case?
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful tumblr user besanii

Having Cosette back in his life makes everything seem brighter. She sends him texts in-between classes, on the nights they’re not seeing each other he calls her, and _he can’t stop smiling_. Marius leans against the front door and beams up at the ceiling.

 

“How’d your date go?” calls Grantaire.

 

Grantaire’s stretched out on his stomach on the couch, feet dangling over the armrest, his sketchpad and a half-empty bottle of wine next to him on the floor. He tilts his head backwards to look up at Marius as he comes in.

 

“Wonderful! We went to the park, which, I know, it sounds boring, but I think she had a good time? I mean, she said that when she was little she wanted to be a botanist, and I think it’s amazing how much she knows about plants, she’s really –“ Marius falters. “Sorry.”

 

He’s been trying to keep himself contained around Grantaire. It’s not that he’s trying to keep it a secret exactly, but it seems cruel to flaunt his happiness with Cosette when Enjolras is still avoiding Grantaire.

 

Enjolras still won’t return Grantaire’s calls, and Grantaire has stopped leaving voicemails. It feels like it should be a positive sign of Grantaire moving on, but sometimes Marius catches him scrolling back and forth through their old text messages to each other, and it makes the scent of sadness clinging to him spike.

 

Grantaire tilts his head up and gives him a lopsided smile. “Marius, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know, okay? Just because things are kind of shitty for me right now, you don’t have to be _sorry_ for being _happy_. You deserve it.”

 

Marius flops down on the floor next to the couch, leaning his head against the couch cushions so that he and Grantaire are level. “You deserve to be happy too.”

 

Grantaire shrugs. “It was my own fault, these things just happen, blah blah blah. Now, tell me about the rest of your date.”

 

That night, he hears Grantaire sneak out of the house after they both go to bed. When he comes back the next morning he smells strongly of whiskey and bruises.

 

It’s not that it’s a particularly unusual occurrence. Grantaire only really started to spend nights inside after the fight with Montparnasse’s pack, but when he’d stumbled through the door before, it was with a grin on his face and a story to share with Marius about the night’s events. Now, he won’t meet Marius’ eyes as he stumbles up the narrow stairs to bed.

 

Grantaire goes out the next night, and the next, and the _next_ , and Marius is increasingly distracted by the knot in his stomach, the little ball of tangled worries growing larger every day because Grantaire won’t talk to him. He can’t focus in his classes properly.  His thoughts travel back to Grantaire, wondering if he’s eaten today, worrying that he’s been more seriously hurt than he’s letting on, trying to think of something to say that could help.

 

His wolf’s senses feel dampened, like they’re trying to seek out Grantaire and ignoring everything else. He’s so distracted that he walks into a pole outside the café where Cosette is waiting for him, and stumbles backwards, tripping over his own feet.

 

Cosette rushes out when she sees him. “Are you okay?”

 

She puts a hand on the side of his face. Her hand feels cool against his blushing cheeks, and he leans into the touch without meaning to. He can feel his face get hotter, but Cosette smiles at him. She kisses him, fast and light.

 

Marius smiles. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t watching where I was going.”

 

“Is everything okay?” Cosette asks. “You have seemed kind of … preoccupied the past couple of days.”

 

“It’s Grantaire. Oh! No, nothing like that!” he adds hurriedly, seeing Cosette’s frown. “It’s just, I don’t know, I think he’s missing Enj - _everyone_ more than he expected. I mean, he’s been going out like he used to but it doesn’t seem like he’s enjoying it. It’s like he’s … I don’t know,” Marius sighs, running a hand through his hair.

 

He waves a hand, searching for the right word to describe the scent of sadness that follows Grantaire like a cloud around the house, and look in his eye when he stumbles through the door at seven in the morning, like he’s itching for Marius to pick a fight with him, the way he flinches away when Marius tries to syphon off some of his pain. Cosette waits patiently, tangling their fingers together. The solid warmth of her hand helps Marius order his thoughts.

 

“It’s like he’s punishing himself or something, and when I try to talk to him about it he just tells me not to worry, but I can’t help it. He’s my pack, and he’s _hurting_ , and he won’t let me help him.” He looks up at Cosette. “I don’t know what to do.”

 

Cosette sits down next to him. “Maybe I can help. That is, if that’s okay? I don’t want you to feel like I’m invading on your pack’s business.”

 

Marius smiles at her. “It would be great if you could help. I mean, packs do that sometimes right? There’s historical precedent.”

 

Cosette laughs. “That’s certainly one way to put it. But I think there was usually a meeting involved when that happens, you know, to set out ground rules and things.”

 

“Why don’t we do that?” says Marius.

 

Cosette frowned. “Do what, have a pack meeting?”

 

“We could, I mean, that way everyone in your pack could see that Grantaire isn’t going to cause any harm, and Grantaire gets to see everyone,” says Marius.

 

Cosette nods. “That could work. We’ll have it somewhere neutral but private. I’ll speak to Combeferre about it, he’s good at getting everyone organised for this sort of thing.”

 

Marius smiles. He hesitates, and then squeezes her hand. “Thanks.”

 

She squeezes back, smiling at him. Her smile makes Marius’ wolf feels as though it’s curled up in a patch of sunlight, safe and warm.

 

 

Grantaire doesn’t love the idea as much as Marius had hoped.

 

“I just don’t want to talk to a bunch of people who have _obviously_ already made up their minds to hate me,” says Grantaire, “Dealing with Combeferre’s interrogation was bad enough.”

 

“Combeferre didn’t _interrogate_ us, stop exaggerating” says Marius.

 

It comes out a little harsher than he’s expecting, but they’ve been arguing back and forth about it since the afternoon. Grantaire is still slightly hung over, but he keeps batting Marius’ hand away whenever Marius tries to help with the pain. Despite a wonderful date with Cosette, Marius isn’t really at his best either – he feels like he’s barely slept all week, waking up from the slightest noise with his wolf on full alert and a mild headache that won’t go away.

 

“Oh, you’re right, I should stop being so _ridiculous_ about this! Combeferre barging into my home and demanding answers _so obviously_ for my own good!” Grantaire stands up, his chair tipping backwards with the force of it.

 

Grantaire trips over of the legs of the chair as he tries to walk away. Marius reaches out to steady him, and as soon as his hand makes contact with the bare skin of Grantaire’s arm, the rush of pins and needles spreads up him arm. He tightens his grip without meaning to.

 

“Marius, let go,” Grantaire says, annoyed at first, then with concern. “Marius?”

 

Grantaire’s voice sounds very far away. Marius can’t focus on anything except the strong almost-numb rush up his arm. He’s dimly aware of Grantaire prying his fingers off his arm and guiding him into a chair. Grantaire’s talking, his tone sounds worried, but Marius can’t bring the words into focus. Marius frowns, concentrating, and even that feels like an enormous effort.

 

“ _Marius_ ,” says Grantaire.

 

Marius latches on to the sound on Grantaire’s voice, anchoring himself to it as he starts to pull the world back into focus.

 

“I’m okay,” says Marius quickly.

 

Grantaire frowns, putting a hand on Marius’ forehead. “You are definitely not okay. I was about five minutes away from taking you to the hospital. In fact, I still might, what the hell _was_ that?”

 

Marius shakes his head, and then instantly regrets it when the room spins a little. Grantaire’s grip on his shoulder tightens, keeping him from sliding off the chair. “I don’t know, it was like when I do the pain-taking thing normally, but everything got really,” he gestures weakly, searching for the right words, “far away.”

 

Grantaire’s frown deepens. “Like, you couldn’t hear what I was saying and you couldn’t really focus on anything outside yourself?”

 

“Yeah, how did you know that?” says Marius.

 

“It’s, uh, a pack thing – pack members being affected by the emotions and well-being of their pack. In larger packs it can get … I guess _diluted_ is a good way to describe it? But with smaller packs it can really hit hard.” Grantaire looks down at their feet. “It’s also sometimes the result of isolation from the pack. There are a lot of cases of this sort of thing when pack members leave for college or travel for work.” He pauses, not looking up. “Maybe you should spend more time with Cosette or something, if being away from that pack is affecting you this badly.”

 

Marius bumps his foot against Grantaire’s. “I think it’s more likely to be the first thing. I mean, I’ve been kind of worried about you.”

 

Grantaire looks up. “Me? Why?”

 

“You’re sad – no,” adds Marius, when Grantaire opens his mouth to argue, “I’ve got werewolf senses remember? I can smell it. You’re not happy, and you won’t talk to me, or let me help. It makes me worry.”

 

“You don’t need to do that,” Grantaire says.

 

Marius smiles weakly at him. “Too late. Anyway, that’s what packs do, don’t they? They worry about each other when they’re not well. You were worried about me just now.”

 

“That’s different,” says Grantaire, “you _almost passed out_ from, like, werewolf-induced stress. That’s not the same.”

 

“You’re hurting,” says Marius simply, “it’s the same.”

 

Grantaire brushes the hair out of Marius’ eyes, carding his hand through Marius’s hair. Marius leans in to the touch. His wolf feels calmer than it has all week.

 

Grantaire sighs. “Well then. I guess we should sort this shit out with Les Amis.”

 

“I don’t want you do it if you _really_ hate the idea,” says Marius.

 

“Well, since _not_ doing it is making you sick, that’s the choice out of my hands,” says Grantaire, “I’ll just suck it up and deal, okay?”

 

“I’ll tell Cosette to make sure everyone’s on their best behaviour,” Marius says.

 

Grantaire snorts, but doesn’t say anything. He keeps brushing his hand through Marius’ hair, soothing Marius’ wolf, as they watch the sun set behind the city through the grimy kitchen window.

 

Grantaire drags out the trunk before they go to bed, picking out an old book. The cloth cover is so worn that the words have faded beyond recognition.

 

“It’s about packs and pack dynamics,” says Grantaire, “I thought it might be a good time for me to re-read this, since it took me so long to recognise what was wrong today.”

 

Marius sits cross-legged on Grantaire’s bed. “Can you read some to me?”

 

Grantaire smiles. “It’s not very exciting, but okay.”

 

Marius falls asleep to the rise and fall of Grantaire’s voice, sometime during a section on pack structures of the 1950s.

 

 

There’s a text from Cosette when he wakes up the next morning.

 

 **[from Cosette]:** hey, I managed to get everyone together for the meeting. Can you and R meet us at the café after midday today? <3

 **[to Cosette]:** sure c u thn  <3 <3 <3

 **[from Cosette]:** thanks <3

 

Grantaire laughs as he reads the text over Marius’ shoulder. He’s hovering a little as they get ready to leave, but Marius doesn’t push it. He feels a lot better after having slept next to Grantaire, but if Grantaire is focused on him then he won’t focus on how they’re about to see Enjolras for the first time since they fought Montparnasse’s pack.

 

They walk to the café. Grantaire keeps a running commentary of everything around them going, and Marius bounces on the balls of his feet whenever they stop at traffic lights. As the café comes into view, Grantaire quietens, slowing his pace.

 

“We don’t have to go,” says Marius.

 

“I’m not afraid of them,” Grantaire says quickly.

 

Marius can hear his heart beat pick up speed. It’s not fear, just a sense of being unsettled.

 

“I didn’t think you were,” says Marius, “I just … if you don’t want to see them, we don’t have to.”

 

Grantaire lets out a long, steady breath, flexing his hands. “No, I can do this. It’s just pack diplomacy, how hard could it really be?”

 

The others turn to stare as they enter. For a moment Marius is a little overwhelmed by the scents of the others after being away from them for so long. Grantaire puts a hand on his shoulder, and he breathes out, focusing on the warm pressure.

 

Marius waves awkwardly. “Hello everyone.”

 

Cosette and Combeferre both look to Enjolras. Courfeyrac elbows him in the ribs.

 

“Hello,” Enjolras says, “thank you for coming.”

 

His voice is cold and clipped, and Marius can feel Grantaire tense up behind him.

 

“No, thank _you_ for having us,” says Grantaire,his voice dripping in sarcasm.

 

There’s a pause, neither group wanting to make the first move. Marius feels his wolf start to twitch, and bites his lip, focusing on the steady-warm presence of Grantaire to anchor him in the moment.

 

Combeferre clears his throat, diverting attention. “Well. I suppose we should get things started. It’s been brought to our pack’s attention that it would be best to relieve the tension between our two groups.”

 

Grantaire snorts, and Enjolras frowns in response. “Do you _disagree_ with that assessment?”

 

“Not necessarily,” says Grantaire, “Although I think sometimes tension is caused by a lack of communication – say, for example, _someone_ refusing to pick up their phone.”

 

Enjolras opens his mouth but Courfeyrac get there first. “Actually, Enjolras, I believe you had something you planned to say about that?”

 

Enjolras’ frown deepens. “We … _I_ perhaps reacted too harshly to you the other day. You have both made valuable contributions to Les Amis, and it would be a shame to lose you because of a misunderstanding.”

 

Marius has heard Enjolras speak many times to convince people, but he has never heard Enjolras sound so insincere.

 

“A _misunderstanding_?” Grantaire repeats. “Enjolras, you accused me of being an undercover bounty hunter trying to monitor you for the government or something. You accused Marius of being a traitor to a cause he very much believes in. I’d say that’s a little more than a misunderstanding.”

 

“I think it was our initial understanding of you that made everything so confusing,” says Combeferre, voice calm even as his heart beats a little faster, “and I, for one, would like to apologise for that as well. That being said, things would have been a lot easier for you both if you had told us the truth.”

 

Grantaire sighs. “I did tell you the truth –”

 

“Not the whole truth,” interrupts Enjolras. “In fact, I can think of several times where you were deliberately ambiguous.”

 

“I am sorry about that,” says Marius. He can feel Cosette looking at him, but he can’t bring himself to meet her eyes. She’s forgiven him, but he still feels a twisting in his stomach at the thought of lying to her.

 

“It’s understandable why you felt you had to hide,” says Combeferre gently, “but I want you both know that you don’t have to hide from us anymore.”

 

Marius doesn’t know quite what to say, so he just nods.

 

Grantaire doesn’t, gaze steadily on Enjolras. “Trust is a two way street you know. If you’re telling us to trust you, you have to trust us a well.”

 

Enjolras opens his mouth, then shuts it again. The pause is too long, and Grantaire drops his gaze, biting his lip. Marius can smell the bitter tang of disappointment in the air, and from the twitching of the other werewolf members of Les Amis he’s guessing they can sense the same.

 

Grantaire lets out a long, steady breath. “Right. Well, I guess that settles that then.”

 

Grantaire picks up his bag, not looking at Enjolras as he exits the café. Marius exchanges a look with Cosette.

 

She reaches out and squeezes his hand. “It’s okay, go.”

 

Marius squeezes back before he lets go, smiling (because _Cosette just touched his hand Cosette loves him_ ). “I’ll call you later? If that’s okay?”

 

“It’s definitely okay,” says Cosette, smiling back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is always loved: fangirl-squee.tumblr.com/ask

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always loved: fangirl-squee.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
